The Fortress, Part I

Posted on Thu Dec 23rd, 2021 @ 4:16pm by Captain Jocelyn Blake & Fleet Admiral Sturnack

Mission: Episode 2: 18th and Constitution
Location: Pinetop, Arizona
Timeline: Mission Day 24 at 1700

[The Fortress]
[Pinetop, Arizona]
[MD 24, 1700 Hours]

They materialized at the outskirts of the property, courtesy of a transport-inhibitor field enveloping the cabin and the wooded areas around it. As the golden sunset gave way to twilight's touch, the large cabin was visible in the distance, reachable only on foot by precaution. The Vulcan of the pair pointed to the dwelling, whose chimney happily smoked with a fire lit in advance of their arrival. As the trek to their temporary new home began, Fleet Admiral Sturnack's feet carefully stepped in the snow; everything the eye could see was coated in the fluffy white of winter, which was only just now beginning in earnest in this pine-covered part of Arizona.

Sturnack had explained to Jocelyn why they could not beam to the cabin directly. And though they now had to walk the quarter mile to hearth and heat, the carrying of their bags had, at least, already been taken care of for them. The footprints of two other people stretched before them, heavier in the snow due to the baggage they had carried some time earlier. It was they who'd lit the fire inside the cabin, no doubt, and it was likely they'd made other preparations for the CinC and his Press Secretary as well. The wind whooshed softly through the pines in concert with the crunching of the pair's footsteps as they walked.

Neither Sturnack nor Jocelyn said much as they trudged, their breaths coming in visible puffs extending before them. Much was likely on their minds having survived an assassination attempt earlier in the day and then being remanded into protective custody. The only silver lining was that, rather than hunkering down in some non-de-script bunker somewhere, the Vulcan's cabin -- a gift from his predecessor upon his passing -- was already configured to serve as a protective and mostly secret locale. Though they went unseen due to their camouflage, Sturnack had explained that Homeworld Security officers were stationed around the property with sniper rifles to assure their safety. Arriving at the cabin proper, both Sturnack and Jocelyn knew they would be quite safe and provided for.

Opening the door, Sturnack kicked his feet -- one at a time -- against the outside door jam, dislodging snow from his boots before entering the cabin proper. Behind him, Jocelyn did the same and then entered as well, closing the door behind them. Ahead, the cabin -- nicknamed The Fortress by its previous owner, Fleet Admiral McGarry -- spread out in welcome. A cheery blaze danced in the fireplace as lamps lit the living room, affording a warm, buttery light on the large couch and the two arm chairs that sat arranged around the fire. Nearby, a large table with six chairs sat, a chessboard and its accompanying pieces set up on its center. The windows were tri-sected into nine panes each, all building up with an inch or two of snow against the glass.

"Sturnack to Lieutenant Pressman," the Vulcan finally spoke, tapping his combadge. "We have safely arrived."

"Understood, sir. We're outside if you need us."

Nodding, Sturnack closed the channel and then turned to Jocelyn. "Welcome to The Fortress. I use this place now and then to get away from the rigors of duty; it affords me ample space to meditate and reflect. I hope you will find it comfortable while we are sequestered away for our own safety."

Jocelyn stood just inside the entrance to the cabin, eyes scanning the space. The peacefulness of such a locale after the intense uncertainty of the day felt almost discordant to her. Like she was somehow being rewarded with a quiet getaway when she was the possible target of an assassination attempt and a woman was dead preventing the assassin from successfully carrying out their intent. Her eyes traveled to Sturnack, taking him in with concern that she hid poorly--too tired to try to keep her emotional state to herself. Two days prior he had still been at Starfleet Medical relearning how to walk.

"It's lovely," she remarked in response to his comment. "I can certainly think of far worse places to be sequestered." She offered him a small tired smile then. "And with worse company."

"I am gratified you feel so," Sturnack nodded slowly. He could tell the woman was tired beyond measure. Though he could eschew emotion -- pushing it away and focusing on the cold light of logic -- the Vulcan knew that Jocelyn had no such capabilities. He could only imagine the emotional turmoil she was feeling and how heavy it weighed on her. He tried to focus his friend on logistics for the time being instead.

"I would like you to treat this place as your home. The primary bedroom," Sturnack gestured to a nearby wooden staircase, "is up there. There is a king size bed and a private bathroom. Should you enjoy baths, there is a clawfoot bathtub that Admiral McGarry was quite fond of. I will take the downstairs bedroom," he gestured then down the hallway. "There is a bathroom down here as well." With a nod, the Vulcan moved towards where their baggage had been earlier offloaded and began to collect Jocelyn's luggage. "I will help you with your things."

"Thank you," she said, her tone grateful. Some part of her brain suggested that she tell him not to worry about it. He wasn't obligated in any way to help her and she couldn't recall if Cowell had set a weight limit for things he was allowed to lift. Her brain was too much a mass of happenings and worry to parse that information, though, and Sturnack was an adult and could make decisions for himself. So instead she grabbed a bag in each hand and followed him up the staircase and down the short landing to the bedroom.

The bedroom itself was cozy. The bed dominated the space, a warm quilt and downy pillows looking for all the world like a temptation as she walked in the door. A closet sat against the far wall and another set of triple paned windows covered the back wall, long dark curtains pulled to either side waiting to be closed against the light should the room's occupant wish for darkness.

Two wooden nightstands sat on either side of the bed and an old wooden dresser sat on the wall opposite. Here, Jocelyn set her toiletries bag, not bothering to wait for Sturnack to leave before she began unpacking various bits and pieces to at least make sure everything was easy to access.

"This feels... decadent..." she said quietly as she worked, her voice conflicted. "To be here and comfortable and thinking about things like whether or not I grabbed my shampoo when a woman died in the process of making sure I did not."

"It is...out of step with reality?" Sturnack asked, guessing at how Jocelyn might be feeling. "I find it difficult to parse in my own thinking as well," the Vulcan said, setting the two large suitcases down near the threshold of the door. Jocelyn would, no doubt, make use of the chestnut dresser and closet as desired. "The heat from the fireplace will, eventually, make its way up here but Admiral McGarry was an impatient man. As such, there is an environmental control unit here," Sturnack said, gesturing to a thermostat panel on the wall. "You may make this room as warm as you wish. I must also advise that half of the closet is filled with some of Admiral McGarry's old clothing. I have not yet removed them: I'm sorry."

That caught her attention. It seemed an odd thing knowing that Admiral McGarry had been gone nearly 2 months by this time. "Did you know him well?" Jocelyn asked, arranging things on the dresser top and then coming over to where Sturnack stood near the doorway. She stopped, facing him, and studied him a moment, wishing for a way to see into his head and understand what, exactly, he was thinking. Maybe then she would feel less out of sync with everything. Her hand went to one of the suitcases as if she intended to move it, but she didn't move.

"I worked with the Admiral for several years," the Vulcan nodded back. "He was most keen to get to know me on a personal level, though I am afraid our friendship was -- at first -- a bit one sided. He often chided me for being so focused on work. At least, in the beginning," Sturnack explained. "But over time, I realized his pernicious desire to become more than mere colleagues would not abate. Thus, I accepted an offer to come here with him for a weekend. John," he used the Admiral's first name, "spent the weekend asking all about my life on Vulcan and in Starfleet. In return, I asked many questions about his own life. I believe our friendship truly began that weekend."

A few moments of silence stretched out before Sturnack spoke again. "There were many other weekends here. Some with him, some without. The Fortress became a...home away from home?" he asked Jocelyn, seeking to confirm he'd gotten the aphorism correct. "I admit that I lament his absence. Especially on a day like today." There was something ever so subtle in the Vulcan's voice as he admitted this but, like a passing reflection as one walked by a mirror, it was immediately gone.

Like an unexpected flash of light Jocelyn caught the fleeting change in Sturnack's inflection and, for a brief moment, wondered if she had imagined it. She knew Vulcans had emotions... that they were just deeply suppressed... and that part of the suppression meant not expressing them. And yet she could have sworn there was grief in his tone. She tucked that away, something to think on during what she imagined would be some very long nights.

"I can understand that," she said quietly, still not moving away from the bags where they stood. "It's difficult to lose part of the support structure in your life--particularly when that support structure was hard won and deeply valued. I'm sorry for your loss, sir." She bent, snagging the handle of the bag and half dragging it around to toss it onto the bed before returning for the other.

With a sigh, she turned back to the Fleet Admiral. "If it's ok, I might put on something less..." here she gestured down the length of her uniform, "formal? I'd kill for sweatpants and a t-shirt right now." She lifted her foot then, indicating her duty boots. "And dry socks."

"I appreciate your condolences," Sturnack said, nodding. "And of course, please...you must make yourself comfortable. Wet socks are contrary to such," he said. "I realize this is a strange predicament we find ourselves in. Uncomfortable and perhaps awkward for both of us. I am sure we will find ways to navigate our situation. You should know that, unless invited, I will refrain from entering this space while you're here. If the door is closed, I will assume you wish privacy. Thus, you may get as comfortable up here as you desire."

His eyes flicked downstairs for a moment, then back to Jocelyn. "You will usually find me downstairs, though if it is helpful, I can spend most of my time in the second bedroom. We'll both need space to work and I would not wish to impede you more than this situation already has. We can see as little or as much of each other as you like during this time. Simply communicate what is needed and we will make it so."

Jocelyn's expression turned thoughtful, considering his offer and finding herself feeling more than a little bit vulnerable. "I..." she began tentatively, "... would rather we didn't try to avoid each other. It's hard enough to navigate this as it is. I'd be glad for your company." Here her eyes flicked up to his and then away, almost self conscious in the motion. "I... would prefer not to be alone."

Sturnack allowed silence to stretch between them, perhaps lost in some thoughts of his own. With a nod, however, he confirmed that he would be amenable to company. "While John called this place his 'Fortress of Solitude,' it does not have to be such between us. I happen to have a favored chair by the fire. Its angle and position allow for the optimal dispelling of the chill that sometimes drafts through this cabin. If I am not working at the dining table, then, you will often find me there." He gestured then beyond the door and down the stairs. "Perhaps once we have both settled in, you might join me there?" As if he needed to further explain his invitation, Sturnack said, "It is a comfortable place to...not be alone."

"That sounds like a plan," Jocelyn replied, offering the Vulcan a small smile. "I'll just..." here she half pointed over to her shoulder to where her bag sat on the bed as if that would explain her intent. Her smile stayed firmly in place though with only a touch of shyness creeping in. "... and then I'll be down." She tugged the other bag around in the same motion she had made with the first, hefting it up next to its predecessor so that both sat side by side. "Maybe we can sort out dinner when I come down? I'm not sure I've even eaten today in light of everything."

"The Admiral was quite old fashioned. While there is a replicator in the kitchen," Sturnack explained, "the cabinets are also stocked full of many things. Giselle -- a neighbor who helps with the upkeep of this place -- ensures there are fresh groceries whenever I am going to be here. She was, in fact, here earlier today. So I am quite sure dinner won't be difficult to sort," he said, using the woman's own word. "Please take your time getting settled. I will be doing the same." And with that, the Fleet Admiral left, the thumps of his footsteps growing fainter as he descended the stairs, leaving Jocelyn alone with her thoughts and luggage.


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

Fleet Admiral Sturnack
Commander-in-Chief
Starfleet Command

and

Captain Jocelyn Blake
Press Secretary
Starfleet Command