Coffee Walk

Posted on Thu Nov 18th, 2021 @ 11:46pm by Captain Jocelyn Blake & Fleet Admiral Sturnack

Mission: Episode 2: 18th and Constitution
Location: Starfleet Command Grounds
Timeline: Mission Day 24 at 0745

[Approaching 18th and Constitution]]
[San Francisco]
[MD 24, 0745 Hours]

San Francisco had -- as of late -- been experiencing its share of chilly mornings. As the fall veered toward winter, it was becoming increasingly more common for temperatures to fall, often accompanied by early morning rains. Brewing offshore, the rainstorms would sweep in and drench the city below, sluicing the streets and glemmoning the green spaces. Today was just such a day -- the receding façade of Starfleet Command and its resplendent greenery shrouded in fog in the distance as the rains gently fell. While not the most pleasant as mornings went, there was still something endearing about walking under umbrellas as the puddles lapped at ones' shoes.

Out in the rain and fog, a pair of people walked slowly side-by-side, huddled under portable, protective cover. Each held an umbrella in one hand and gently clutched a coffee tumbler in the other. Ahead, their breath puffed in the air, fading as their bodies caught up to the small clouds. As they walked, the pair was deep in conversation, almost forgetting the pair of security officers trailing in their wake, watching for anything that might be amiss along their path.

"I find it hard to believe," the first figure -- a Vulcan -- said, "that people actively teach their children to believe in fictional, holiday-themed characters. Lies and deceit about an obese gentleman who brings toys hardly seems a logical way of engendering good behavior." Fleet Admiral Sturnack walked slowly next to Captain Jocelyn Blake, looking at her with that always-on neutral mask of his. "Would such lies not create more work for the parents, who must now spend time replicating and wrapping toys just to uphold the deception?"

With the coming of December, Christmas was not far off. While holiday decor was limited to individual desks inside Starfleet Command -- the organization as a whole choosing not to impose the human holiday on all who worked there -- the streets of San Francisco were a different story. As was typical fare during this time of year, decorations had begun to go up around the common grounds Sturnack and Blake now walked, including the candy canes that lined the light poles and twinkling white lights strung between trees. It was, indeed, those decorations that had sparked a conversation about the holiday.

"Respectfully, Admiral, you're missing the point," Jocelyn replied, laughter in her voice causing an extra-dense puff of steamy condensation out ahead of her. "Santa Claus is about magic. About creating a belief that good exists in the world and that, sometimes, good things happen simply because they do." As she walked she gesticulated with the hand that wasn't holding the umbrella. Empty coffee mug punctuating her sentences and occasionally finding its way clear of protective cover of her umbrella. It caught more drops than usual with the last gesture and she absently tipped it in front of her as she walked, shaking the tumbler lightly--a fruitless activity as she would certainly end up getting it wet again.

"Don't you believe that there are times when things are just... good against all odds?" she asked, curious.

Sturnack pondered this question, an eyebrow raising as he continued walking. The rain continued to drizzle, passing hover-cars causing the water to wash up and over the sidewalks. The Vulcan -- not wanting Blake to get wet -- moved to walk on her left, ensuring it was he who might catch any splashed puddles instead. "The very nature of 'odds' means that things will not always be good. Statistically, they cannot always be so, even for a short period of determined time like 'Christmas.'" The heavily shined black boots he wore stepped deeply into a splosh of water on the uneven sidewalk but the Vulcan paid it no mind. "Still, I do understand the nature of incentive-based behavioral changes. Do humans threaten coal at all times of the year, or only during your holidays?"

Jocelyn frowned lightly, the look a mix of bemusement and consternation. "You're not getting off the topic that easily. Does it matter that the odds mean it won't always be good? I mean... by its very nature Christmas and Santa Claus and the magic of it all is about being hopeful for good. It doesn't guarantee it. But hope creates good things in people. It can make even dismal circumstances seem bright." She shot a quick sideways glance to her left, noting the deliberateness with which Sturnack had shifted position.

"You've created a perfect example, actually," she said a small teasing smile on her lips. "You've moved to my left. I assume, theoretically, to ensure I get less wet. But I can tell you now that there's going to be water in my boots anyway. Why move if it's not guaranteed to make the situation better? To be good..." she trailed off, turning her head full to study him now, as if she might catch some twitch or shift in his expression. "Isn't it hopeful to assume that changing your behavior might improve things?"

"Your assumption is, indeed," Sturnack bowed his head with deference, "correct. However, logic dictates that by moving to the side where the most water is likely to be," he gestured to the rain-kissed pools along the street, "any splashes from passing vehicles will be more likely to splash myself. Some moisture will no doubt get by -- I am not wide enough to protect you from all of the water," the Vulcan conceded, "but it isn't hope that guides my actions. It is statistical probability. My actions were directly taken to reduce the probability of you being...what is the human term? Deluged?" Sturnack asked as he continued stepping forward, this time into the street as he and Blake crossed an intersection.

Jocelyn considered that for a long moment, keeping pace with the man next to her as they crossed the intersection and resumed the sidewalk. She snuck another look at Sturnack under her umbrella. The pavement had started to become steep as they made their way upward toward the Horseshoe Café. She was glad for his company, but a niggling worry in the back of her mind reminded her that he had, not a week ago, still been confined to a hover chair.

Finally she spoke again. "So your action is calculated," she remarked slowly. "But even knowing that, it doesn't answer my question. Does it matter that the odds mean it won't always be good? Is hope, by itself, worthwhile?"

"Hope is a fallacy. Simply wanting a thing does not make it manifest," the Vulcan replied, the strain of some bit of effort betrayed in his voice as he walked up the large hill. "However, I do see the value in individuals choosing to reach for promise rather than despair. Taking actions to achieve a desired outcome is, inherently, more helpful towards such than simply hoping for it. So perhaps the outcome is the same -- children being good to get presents is simply a calculated move designed to, again, achieve a desired outcome. But if you wish to ascribe romantic, holiday sentiment, I shall not prevent you from such."

"Indeed you shan't," she remarked with amusement. "Perhaps they are the same outcome, but I am afraid I will have to disagree that hope is a fallacy. Hope is a valuable way to live life. Without it humanity would have succumbed to its own worst self millennia ago, and we wouldn't even be having this conversation."

She had been gesturing with her tumbler again and, once more, tipped it out to the side to clear any water from the lid. She slowed her pace slightly as well, an unconscious response to the strain in her companion's tone. "To answer your earlier question, no... humans don't use coal as a motivator year round. Just in the last month or two of the year."

"Perhaps," Sturnack conceded, himself not an expert on humanity and its motivations. "And I see," he replied neutrally to the woman's revelatory answer. "Fear-based motivation can only prove viable for so long. A year-long threat of coal might cause the threat to lose its teeth." The Vulcan continued pushing up the hill, feeling pressure and tension in his spine as he climbed. There was pain but the CinC was obviously pushing himself through it, not wanting to stop the walk on his own behalf.

"Something looks wrong," came a voice from behind the pair. It was Lieutenant John Macklehearny, one of the security officers, who -- along with his companion -- had been trailing Sturnack and Jocelyn to provide for their protection. "Stop," Mackleherny ordered, coming up to put himself between them and the street. His eyes quickly scanned the rooftops of the buildings lining the street on the far side, gaze moving side-to-side.

"You see something?" came the response of the female security officer, Lieutenant Jenna Berryhill. She, too, moved to put herself between Sturnack, Jocelyn, and the street, eyes moving up to the rooftops as well. She drew her phaser, not wasting any time as she, too, scanned their surroundings.

"I thought I saw...GET DOWN!" Macklehearny yelled, suddenly leaping at Sturnack and Blake to knock them to the ground. A glowing beam of verdant energy lanced from a rooftop across the way, passing through the air where the pair had been standing. It was impossible to know who the target was given how Sturnack and Blake had been standing but the pair had, at least, escaped the first blast.

Meanwhile, Berryhill was firing her weapon in a cover pattern, unable to ascertain the exact source of the disruptor fire but sending her own blast in its general direction. "Get them inside a shop," she shouted at Macklehearney, firing again. She thought she caught motion atop an antique shop to the right. "They're running," Berryhill warned. "We--"

But it was too late. The assailant hadn't been running; merely changing position. And their disruptor beam met its mark this time, vaporizing Berryhill in an instant. The rain drops passed through the cloud of energized particles that had once been a person.

"GO!" Macklehearny breathed, standing up and raising his own weapon. "Get into the shop next to us," he ordered, firing in the general direction the beam had come from. He thought he could see someone crouching next to a ventilation unit -- whoever it was seemed to be struggling with something. Had their weapon jammed?

Breath whooshed out of Jocelyn's lungs as she hit the ground limbs tangling slightly with Sturnack's. For a brief moment the ability to draw breath seemed to fail her as she rolled, pulling herself free and turning her head only just in time to see Berryhill's demise. A sick feeling clawed its way up her throat and for a moment she thought she might vomit, but her Academy training kicked in seconds later and, true to protocol, she scrambled up from the ground into a crouch, twisting slightly to confirm that Sturnack was up and moving.

Once she was certain she scrambled a few feet ahead, closing the distance between herself and the shop Macklehearny had identified before springing to her feet and sprinting for the door. She reached it in a matter of seconds, but it felt like long minutes as she and the CinC were, temporarily, easier targets standing at full height.

Whirling upon entrance into the shop, she confirmed, first visually then verbally, that Sturnack was with her. "Are you alright, sir?" she asked, waiting for his confirmation and inspecting him as if she might find a disruptor burn or some other indication of reopened wounds. A grisly image of Sturnack bloody and broken at the site of the bombing ran across her mind's eye and she swallowed back bile. He had only just been discharged and she was painfully aware of that.

"I am mostly uninjured," Sturnack said from the safety of the shop, though he sounded slightly out of breath. He was also reaching behind his back, massaging at his lower spine. "We must proceed further into the shop, Jocelyn. Hurry," he stressed, sounding pained. Outside, Macklehearny continued exchanging fire with the assailant across the street.

Panic tried to claw its way to dominance again and again, her Academy training saved her. Jocelyn hurried toward the back of the shop, trusting Sturnack to follow and bellowing orders to the shop's attendant as she went. "You need to lock all of the entrances," she called.

When the attendant didn't move quickly enough she glared at him and shouted, "Now!" before tapping her comm badge, its familiar chirp both soothing and maddeningly normal. "Captain Blake to Starfleet Command Security -- there has been an incident at..." she paused, holding the attendant--who had jumped to do her bidding after the last demand--in her gaze. "What intersection is this?" she asked.

The man's voice waved slightly, "18th and Constitution, ma'am."

She nodded and turned away. "We're at 18th and Constitution. We have one officer down. Send back up."

"Right away, Captain," came the tinny reply from her combadge.

Outside, six officers appeared in the rain of glowing sprites that heralded a transporter beam. Through the glass door and expansive windows, Sturnack watched as the officers took up position, deploying portable forcefield generators to establish cover, so out in the open as they were. Along with Macklehearny, they began firing at the rooftop where the assailant had been, causing the ventilation unit on the rooftop to explode. No return fire came, however. On the street itself, others who'd been walking prior to the altercation were screaming and trying to find whatever cover they could.

With hand motions directing his people, Macklehearny sent four of the new arrivals across the street in pursuit of the would-be assassin. The rest of the team, meanwhile, continued with cover fire until, finally, the other officers had made it to the rooftop and began to canvas it. Macklehearny took the opportunity to enter the shop behind him, hoping to check in on the CinC and the Press Secretary.

"Sirs," he said, nodding to Sturnack and Blake both, "are you both OK?" Macklehearny made no mention of Berryhill, though the fact that she'd been vaporized out of existence hung heavily in the air for all of them. The ongoing hunt for the assailant continued to play out through the windows behind him.

"I am fine," Sturnack pronounced, eyeing Blake. "Jocelyn?" he asked, his face a mask of calm despite the assassination attempt. Despite his assertion of being alright, he still held his back, however.

Unlike her companion, Jocelyn's expression was grim and she flinched slightly, the feel of brush burns along her hands where she had caught herself in the fall kicking in as her brain had a moment to catch up. "I'm fine," she said her tone strained, but confident.

"I'm very glad you're both alright," Macklehearny nodded. "We've got to get you back to Starfleet Command. I can't guarantee your safety out here." He'd been about to tap his combadge to order transport when the device chittered with an incoming message. With a tap, he said, "Go ahead."

"Sir, it's Perkins. There's no sign of the assassin. We suspect they beamed out: there's a trace of tachyon particles. Unfortunately, they must have used some kind of scrambler because we can't trace the signal." Across the street and atop the roof, a lone officer suddenly held up what looked like an elongated rifle-type weapon. "They left their weapon behind, though. Clearly Romulan in origin. Bagging and tagging, sir," he noted.

"Understood. Good work, Perkins," Macklehearny nodded before closing the channel. Turning to Sturnack and Blake, the man shook his head. "Given the angle and position of fire, either of you could have been the target. It's impossible to tell. We need to get you both back to the safety of the SFC complex until we can sort all this out."

"I understand," Sturnack nodded slowly. "We are ready for transport, Lieutenant." The Vulcan sounded so dispassionate; such a lack of reaction to an assassination attempt might be surprising for most but, for Sturnack, this seemed to be just another day as far as his reactions went. "Are you ready, Jocelyn?" he asked the woman beside him.

Head turning to look him over, Jocelyn nodded once, sharply before adding the verbal confirmation. "Let's get out of here," she said with a grim enthusiasm.

"Very well," Macklehearny nodded and tapped his combadge. Moments later, the trio disappeared in three clouds of sparkling motes, vanishing from the shop and the reach of whomever'd just tried to kill one or both of them.

Reappearing in the CinC's office directly, Sturnack moved away from Blake and the security officer to stick his head outside the door to his office. "Marlena, I require Whitford, Hurroo, Van Groesbeck, Andoloni, and Jordan Hoover. Also Doctor Cowell."

"Sir?" came the quizzical reply of Commander Glenn. "Is everything OK?"

"No," Sturnack replied matter-of-factly. "Get them all and then please join us. Cancel the rest of this morning's meetings, please." Dipping back into the office, he eyed Blake then. "As I have often heard humans say...the fun," he arched an eyebrow, "never ends, does it?"

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

Fleet Admiral Sturnack
Commander-in-Chief
Starfleet Command

and

Captain Jocelyn Blake
Press Secretary
Starfleet Command