Haha, that's twice the Quinndine has had to have meetings with his "favorite" admirals and had them push his buttons in front of people. I know ch'Harrell sent LaRoca the rundown of Berat's encounter after he returned (even though I haven't reached that part in the story). But I know Quinndine has to have some raw nerves after Berat's borderline insubordination that he didn't really have any good options to deal with, and now *this.* (That and thinking the 77th leadership has probably made him as an infiltrator--but they're too sneaky for him to 100% nail them on it...)
What's hilarious is that Berat and LaRoca are such opposites in personality and tactics yet both manage to TRIBBLE the Quinndine off so greatly and get under his skin.
Christian Gaming Community Fleets--Faith, Fun, and Fellowship! See the website and PM for more. :-) Proudly F2P.Signature image by gulberat. Avatar image by balsavor.deviantart.com.
Well, I am (for aforementioned personal reasons) very happy that Sanjit and Aaron are OK.
And this really is about to explode, isn't it? Please tell me that Ssharki won't miss out on the action, I want to see him pull a badass Undine-killing stunt.
Last we saw of Ssharki, he was up to his neck in Klingon politics. I've got plans for him (and his kids) but I think it'll be a while before you see anything like what you're hoping for.
Nah, I was going to kill her off-but that's because i was in a rut. the others talked me out of it, and I'm glad they did. Never kill off a character without getting at least a second opinion.
She and Aaron both have a lot of growth potential. Generally you only want to kill characters under two circumstances: when you've tapped that potential and have nowhere further to "grow" them, or when the plot demands that somebody must die. It's a rule I've broken a few times myself, but it's a good one to try to follow. (Otherwise you end up looking like an overrated, overhyped YA author with a Battle Royale fixation.)
Haha, that's twice the Quinndine has had to have meetings with his "favorite" admirals and had them push his buttons in front of people. I know ch'Harrell sent LaRoca the rundown of Berat's encounter after he returned (even though I haven't reached that part in the story). But I know Quinndine has to have some raw nerves after Berat's borderline insubordination that he didn't really have any good options to deal with, and now *this.* (That and thinking the 77th leadership has probably made him as an infiltrator--but they're too sneaky for him to 100% nail them on it...)
What's hilarious is that Berat and LaRoca are such opposites in personality and tactics yet both manage to TRIBBLE the Quinndine off so greatly and get under his skin.
Obviously we've been writing our stories independently of one another, but I find it remarkable that Berat is the one who's ended up yelling at Quinn, while LaRoca just pissed him off with a salute.
There will be a few more Quinn v. LaRoca scenes before this is over, with I think some surprising outcomes. Stay tuned. :cool:
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
Berat was also intentionally using his anger--allowing himself to go deep into the emotion, to try to keep his thoughts from going into places that the Quinndine could potentially still detect despite his mental disciplines. So yeah, he did allow himself to get more wound up, but there was a method behind his madness. (Could he *really* know I'm Undine? Would he actually risk such temper if he did? ) Vulcan disciplines these are not.
Christian Gaming Community Fleets--Faith, Fun, and Fellowship! See the website and PM for more. :-) Proudly F2P.Signature image by gulberat. Avatar image by balsavor.deviantart.com.
...All alone
The answer to everything
All alone
It's another way out
I'm only looking for a way out...
- Wolfmother, "In the Castle"
* * *
...All the kids have always known
That the emperor wears no clothes
But they bow down to him anyway
'Cause it's better than being alone
If I was scared
I would
And if I was bored
You know I would
And if I was yours
But I'm not...
- Arcade Fire, "Ready to Start"
P A R T . S E V E N , . C H A P T E R . T H R E E :
B E T T E R . T H A N . B E I N G . A L O N E
Paris - 2412.07.31.0726 (1626 hours CET)
Jesu LaRoca stormed down the steps of the Palais de la Concorde to street level, his long stride and rapid gait carrying him quickly away from the scene of the disaster.
"Admiral, wait!" Ryoko called out. "We need to talk about this!"
"What the f*ck is there to talk about," he snarled back. "He wants a war, and that's what he's gonna get. And thanks for nothing. Absolutely nothing."
"What? Admiral-"
"Shut up and leave me alone. I've had enough talk. I need to think."
"But don't we need to-"
"Rusty, make sure she doesn't follow me!" he called over his shoulder as he stepped into the street.
Ryoko looked at the Deinon security officer. "I just want to work this out."
"That's what he's doing," Rusty told her, as he tracked his brother across the gridlock on the Place de la Concorde. Jesu approached to within a few meters of the scorch mark that was left from where Satik had died, then he veered right, stepping up onto the opposite sidewalk and heading south toward the river.
"Master Chief, make sure the Minister gets back to her office," Rusty ordered the huge Gorn NCO. "Oezlel, coordinate with Hooper, maintain scanner lock on the Admiral. Call me if any threat arises."
"Alright sir-" the Reman lieutenant started to say, but Rusty was already gone.
The Deinon lowered his head, folded his arms, extended his tail and ran, slipping through the crowds and the traffic as though the people and cars were just dull lumbering beasts. He slowed when he sighted his brother again, walking east along Quai des Tuileries. Rusty straightened up and merged with the other pedestrians. With his head raised he stood at nearly two meters, letting him track his brother over the heads of the crowds.
Jesu kept walking to the next bridge, the Pont Royale. He walked across it halfway and then stopped. He leaned on the rail, and looked down the river back at the Presidential office complex. He reached up to the right breast of his dress jacket and removed his ceremonial combadge, and fingered it as though contemplating flipping it into the Seine.
Rusty kept an eye out for protesters - who were now banned from gathering within a two-block radius of any Federation government building - or anyone else who would want to bother his brother. He intercepted a reporter who crossed the street from the Louvre, PADD and stylus at the ready. "The Admiral is not here for an interview," he rasped. "If you wanna talk to him, call his office and make an appointment."
"I only have a few questions," the reporter protested.
"And he does not want to answer them now." Rusty spread his stance. "Do you wanna walk away, or swim?"
Meanwhile, Jesu was approached by someone else. "Admiral LaRoca?"
Jesu looked around, then down at the young boy who was standing beside him, smiling excitedly. "What do you want, kid?"
"I... um." The child searched his pockets. "I, uh, I wanted your autograph, but I don't have anything for you to..."
"Forget it, buddy. You don't want my autograph."
"Sure I do! You're my hero! When I grow up, I wanna join Starfleet and fight Klingons and Borgs and other bad guys, just like you!"
"You don't wanna be like me," Jesu told him, looking back over the river. "I messed up, kid. I focused so hard on all those other bad guys out there, I forgot about the real bad guys, right here. The people who run the Federation and have no idea what it's s'posed to stand for. Nothing I've ever done out there makes any difference, if the people here are just gonna bury our ideals under red tape and lies."
He looked back at the little boy. "I'm sorry, kid. I let you down. When you grow up, the Starfleet I joined won't be around anymore. Because I ignored the real problems until it was too late to fix them."
Rusty walked up and handed his brother a PADD and stylus. "Sign this."
Jesu sighed as he took it. "What am I signing?"
"This kid's autograph." Rusty took the PADD back, holoshopped Jesu's digital signature onto a 3D imagecap of the Tiburon, and downloaded it to an isochit. He knelt down to hand the chip to the little boy. "There you go. And don't worry about the Admiral. He's just having a bad day."
"Thank you, sir!" The kid grinned from ear to ear and ran off.
"You can't believe that TRIBBLE," Rusty told his brother. "It's not true. There are plenty of good people here. And plenty of reasons to believe in them. Even though sometimes they're forced to make bad decisions..." he looked toward Okeg's office, "they're good people. And they will get things right, if you give them a chance."
"Oh yeah? And what about Moab?" Jesu asked bitterly. "They don't have time for Okeg and the Council to figure things out. They are going to have their freedoms stripped away while we sit here and watch."
"Maybe, maybe not," Rusty shrugged. "Maybe this is all part of a bigger picture that we can't see from where we are. And maybe instead of looking around and wondering how we got here, we should look forward and see where do we go from here."
Jesu put his combadge back on his coat and straightened up. "I know where we're going next." He started walking along the bridge again, toward the Mus
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
I forgot to do this at the "midway point" (which I'm pretty sure was the end of part six... yeah, pretty sure.) but I want to open up the cast list to the readers. We have a bunch of new faces in this story (and a few we just never bothered to cast before now) and rather than me spending hours tabbing through IMDB.com I thought I'd let you all do it for me.
If there's a name already on the board and you've got somebody you think is better, feel free to suggest it and if I agree I'll make the switch. (See previous cast lists at the bottom of this post for returning characters.)
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
'Cause you're lost in front of me
In truth, I'm losing you
And you know it's over
When you're gonna bring down
Take everything and live for the moment
It's only gonna bring you down tonight...
- Gemini, "Blue"
* * *
Controlling my feelings for too long
Controlling my feelings for too long
And forcing my darkest soul to unfold
And forcing our darkest souls to unfold
And pushing us into self-destruction
And pushing us into self-destruction
And they make me
Make me dream your dreams
And they make me
Make me scream your screams...
- Muse, "Showbiz"
P A R T . E I G H T , . C H A P T E R . O N E :
D A R K E S T . S O U L S . U N F O L D
Seacliff - 2412.08.01.0701
Jesu LaRoca sat up and glared at his alarm clock for another half a minute before reaching over and shutting it up. Then he looked over to the other side of his bed, prepared to rouse his brother.
His brother wasn't there.
Jesu had gotten so used to Rusty sleeping in, it took him a minute to remember that this - Rusty being up out of bed before him - was normal. Jesu yawned and scratched at his stubbly beard and thought, Guess he's finally getting the sleep he needs. He got up and went to the head.
A shower and a trim later, he came downstairs wearing his civvies looking for coffee. "Morning, Spitz." The Ferasan was already up as well.
"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"
"Nope. But-"
"-That's what coffee's for, of course," Spitz-Reader finished with an amused flick of his tail. "What shall we do today?"
"Well, it's election day on Moab... the first real election day they've had. RTN should be covering that. It'll probably be a couple days before they get all the polling results but I want to track it anyway. See who's right about those guys - me or Okeg."
"And while you're yelling at the news, what should I do?"
"Um, make sure I stop yelling and don't miss my date with Mags..." LaRoca drank his first cup of coffee in one go. "I'd also like for you to look over my notes. You're good with psychology - hopefully you'll see patterns I'm missing. They're in my desktop - file heading's 'Timber Rattler.'"
"Is that supposed to mean something?" Reader asked as he started moving toward the Admiral's office.
"Yeah. Hey, where's Rusty?" Jesu wondered, abruptly changing subjects.
"I don't know," Reader answered, honestly.
"Maybe he's with Georgia..." Jesu noticed the Ferasan's body language. His whiskers drooped, his tail was still, his eyes and ears were in motion. "You know something you're not telling me," Jesu declared.
"Rusty is... not here. He left early this morning."
"Where?" Admiral LaRoca demanded.
"I don't know," Reader said again, as Jesu pushed past him into the office.
LaRoca tapped at his secure comm panel. "Hooper-"
"Good morning, Jesu."
"Do you know where my brother is?"
"Yes," the AI answered.
"Where?" Jesu demanded. "And why are you both being so damned evasive?"
"He's... on a mission. Something he feels he must do without involving you."
"He told me he was looking for his sign," Spitz-Reader spoke up.
Jesu gave Spitz a curious look. "Do you know what he meant by that?"
Reader slowly nodded. "I think I do."
Camano Shores, WA - 0822 hours
"Wow." Rusty removed the 'hat' and rubbed the contact points on his skull. "And Alice did that for fun? She's crazier than I thought."
"Sir?" Barrister looked up from his PADD.
"Uh, never mind."
"Well, I hope you're not planning on doing that again," Hooper spoke up. "This construct you've left me to train is quite a handful."
"Well, he should have all of my knowledge and experience, right?" Rusty asked the ceiling. "You just need to help him put it together."
"Easy for you to say. You had thirty-seven years to develop."
"Yeah, but to you that's like thirty-seven seconds, right? That 'subjective time' thing you talk about?" Rusty thought a moment. "How long will it take before you've got him ready?"
"I'm done. He's off into the net right now. But I have to tell you, that was an uncomfortably long time for me to be dressed as the Blue Fairy."
"Sorry." Rusty tried hard not to snicker.
Barrister blinked in confusion for a moment and asked, "What shall I do now, sir?"
Rusty looked around the room. "I don' think anyone will need to use this again, but... D'you think you can take all this apart in such away that nobody but you could figure out how to put it back together?"
"I can't rule out Hooper or another high-order AI, of course," Barrister replied, "but I believe I can make it so no organic could reassemble Dr. Okuda's work, with the exception of the doctor herself."
"Okay, do that," Rusty instructed. "And then you can go back to your shore leave, I guess... Say, Barrister, I don't think I've heard your stuff before. Do you have like a... demo record I could listen to?"
"You're making a big mistaaaake..." Hooper told him through his cochlear implant in a sing-song voice.
"I... do, yes. Um... I've been told my compositions are not exactly compatible with humanoid musical tastes..."
"That's okay. I ain't exactly humanoid." Rusty held out his personal pocket PADD - a Samsung Quasar like his brother's, but one model year newer.
Barrister synced the files from his device. "I'd be interested in hearing what you think. Perhaps I could find a market with your species."
"Heh. Gotta find 'em first." Rusty put his PADD away. "Thanks for your help, guys. Both of you. I owe you."
"Think nothing of it, sir," Barrister told him as he very efficiently dismantled the headpiece. "It was my pleasure to assist you and your brother with this project."
"Eh, I think I'll let you owe me," Hooper said. "Especially for that 'Blue Fairy' thing."
"See you later, Barrister. Um, lock the door when you leave, please."
"Understood."
Rusty went outside and pulled up his hoodie, and started walking toward the ferry to the mainland.
"Where will you go now?" Hooper asked him.
"I don't know." He had dealt with one nightmare. But he had others still to face. He checked his PADD. There was a list from Lt. Zetaz with four names on it. Two in San Francisco, one in Paris, one in Cardiff... Oezlel's still in France. "Paris," he decided. "Get me a flight to Paris." He sent Lt. Oezlel a message instructing her to meet him in front of the Capellan embassy.
He thought of his brother, and Georgia. They'd be awake by now, wondering where he was... Think of them later. You have a mission to complete. With great effort, he pushed them both from his mind.
And replaced them with something else; something primal and fearsome.
He hunkered down and started to run, with his claws out and teeth bared. His eyes were in constant motion, his nose and ears alert to every scent and sound as his hypersensitive senses kicked into overdrive.
It is time to Hunt.
* * *
'Cause you're lost in front of me
In truth
I'm losing you
'Cause you're lost in front of me
In truth
I'm losing you
And you know it's over
When you're gonna bring down
Take everything and live for the moment
It's only gonna bring you down tonight
When you're locked up in my blue
It's true
I love you
When you're locked up in my blue
It's true
I love you
And you know it's over
When you're gonna bring down
Take everything and live for the moment
It's only gonna bring you down
Bring you down
Bring you down
Bring you down
When I'm lost I'll come to you
So blue
I'm feeling you
When I'm lost I come to you
I'm blue
I feel you
And you know it's over
When you're gonna bring down
Take everything and live for the moment
It's only gonna bring you down
Bring you down
Bring you down
Bring you down
And you know it's over
When you're gonna bring down
Take everything and live for the moment
It's only gonna bring you down tonight
And you know it's over
When you're gonna bring down
Take everything and live for the moment
It's only gonna bring you down tonight
Jesu came back in from a late-morning swim. The scant news from Moab was just enough to kick RTN's prognosticators into a self-sustaining cycle of speculation, which set LaRoca's blood to a low boil. Fortunately he had an ocean nearby to cool him off.
His back deck had stairs leading down to the beach and an outdoor shower so he wouldn't track salt and sand into the house. He toweled off and pulled on a T-shirt before going back inside. Somebody had turned the HV back on - deductive reasoning told him it must be Georgia.
He walked in and found a cooler set up in front of the entertainment center, and it was full of bottles.
"Drinking early?" Jesu asked, glancing at his watch to confirm that it was just after noon.
"Seemed lahk a good ahdea - either ah'll be ahead on celebratin', or too numb to be upset," She told him. "Either way, mah vote's in..."
"How did you vote?" Jesu asked.
"Absentee." Georgia offered him one of the bottles. "Beer?"
He hesitated, and she said, "Take it. Normally ah'd be all over punching up the other woman, but you're not a woman, and it ain't nothin' sexual, raght?"
Jesu realized she'd already been into the booze earlier today. "Georgia-"
"Take the damn beer. Ah'm not mad at you." She seemed mad though.
After a long moment of uncomfortable silence, she said. "Ah'm mad because he loves you more than he can ever love me - and there ain't diddly-squat ah can do to change it. But if things go lahk ah think they will..." She looked at the words and numbers on the holoviewer screen, "Ah'm not the person ya leave drinking alone."
Jesu finally took the bottle she held out to him, and sat down next to her. "What time is it over there?"
"Nha Tranh tahm's six hours behand us, acountin' for the extra day they work into Joolah to make the calendars lahn up. So nobody's even awake there, yet. But New Hidalgo County's up and votin'. Berun's World and Ahluna's capitals are lahned up with us."
Jesu opened the bottle. New Hidalgo County... mostly expats from Earth's Latin American regions, or people who'd resettled from Nuevo Castille. He'd assumed that... He wasn't expecting exit polls to show a seventy-two percent leaning toward Reconciliation.
Arluna was polling opposite numbers - twenty-something for Rec and most of the rest split between Good Government and Nationalist. Berun's World looked like it could go in any of nine different ways, so far.
"Where is Rusty anyways?" Georgia wondered. "Ah know he don't swim, but ah figgered he'd be... watchin' you, or sumthin."
"Rusty's... not here," Jesu told her. "He had to go somewhere this morning."
"Oh. When's he comin' back?"
"I don't know." Jesu took a long drink. His mouth suddenly felt very dry. "I think he's trying to figure things out. He does love you, very, very much. He told me last night, he... he doesn't want to lose you."
She slumped a little more. "Ah know... it's why ah haven't left," she said. "Ah love him, and he loves me - but ah'm second place," she told Jesu. "Ah'm not sure how to live with thet... or if ah can."
"I don't know what to tell you. And if I did... you shouldn't listen to any relationship advice I have." He gave her a solemn look. "Three days. That's how long the only really serious relationship I ever had lasted. But Rusty somehow made things work with you for over a year now. He's committed to you."
Georgia opened another bottle. "It's why ah stay," she told him, "and it's what's tearin' me apart. I'll deal." She gave him a smile that didn't reach her blue eyes. "You need to drink up, Adm'ral, y'all are fallin' behahnd..."
Five hours later
"Jesu, what the hell?"
Jesu looked up. Spitz was hovering over him, looking very displeased. "Huh?"
"You have a date with Admiral Rogachev downtown in an hour. And you're drunk."
"Am not!" Jesu sat up, a little too fast. The room spun a wee bit... "I only had... six? But over five hours-"
"For you, that's enough." Reader crossed the room and dug through his suitcase, and came up with a hypo. "You are, in the parlance of those who drink too much alcohol, a 'lightweight.' How much do you weigh?"
"I'm... what?"
Reader sighed through his nostrils. "I need to dose you with a drug to counteract the effects of alcohol, to sober you up enough that you do not embarrass yourself in front of the CSC. I have to be very precise when dosing this for Humans. So I need to know how much you weigh to the nearest kilogram."
"Um, eighty-eight," Jesu told him. "I've been trying to work off this gut, but-"
Reader dialed in the measure on his hypo and gave Jesu a shot in the neck.
He felt it working immediately. "Whoa. What is that stuff?"
"Nepata extract," Reader told him. "You will have a massive headache when you come down, but you'll be fine for the next six hours or so. Do not order wine with dinner." The Ferasan looked over Georgia, who was passed out at the other end of the couch. "Go get dressed. I'll look after her."
La Java, Paris - 0220 CET
"Do you have her?"
"No... there's too much noise." Lt. Oezlel shut her eyes and shook her head, trying to clear out some of the voices. After a long hunt, she and Cmdr. LaRoca had tracked the Capellan ambassador to this nightclub, but... "It's no use. I can't get a read on her in here. We'll have to wait until she leaves."
Rusty nodded and pulled up his hood. He hadn't packed his club jacket, and his street clothes weren't right for this place, but at least he could hide under his trenchcoat. Oezlel, on the other hand, with her pastel makeup and her old shiny Reman military uniform, actually blended in. She was able to get pretty close to Ambassador Ledarr, but not close enough to isolate her mind.
Rusty watched her from a corner by the bar, involuntarily bobbing along with the Latin-synthtronica fusion beat. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep the Hunter in check, but the vibes he got from the room told him that the night was just getting started. "We can't wait all night, Oz," he hissed into his comm. "We need to flush her into the open."
"What do you suggest? I could trip a fire alarm, but we may lose her if everyone leaves in a panic."
The crowd in front of the stage applauded as the band finished its set, and the house DJ took over, filling the space with classical dubstep. The crowd responded to the shifting tone - some sat down at their booths while others moved out to the dance floor. Rusty had a sudden thought that prompted a mischievous grin. "I've got an idea," he told Oezlel. "You may want to cover your ears."
He moved closer to the DJ booth, checking his PADD, until he was in near-field communications range of the sound system. Rusty's cybersecurity training worked both ways - he found he had no trouble slicing into off-the-shelf protections on the DJ's computers. From there, overriding the playlist was as simple as selecting which of Barrister's tracks the patrons of La Java would find most acoustically offensive.
Within seconds, he was assaulting the club and the surrounding neighborhood with harsh, discordant screeching tones, mixed with the sort of felt-not-heard rumbling usually associated with earthquakes. Rusty actually thought it was pretty good, even if the production quality was a bit amateurish. But then, the sounds did not stress the limits of his hearing range as they did for humanoids.
The poor DJ tapped futilely at his console while the dancers stood around, their expressions rapidly morphing from confusion to disgust. Some of the patrons were fairly inebriated, and they took longer to clear out, but within ten minutes the usually vibrant nightclub was almost completely deserted.
"Okay, I've followed her out into the street. Thanks for the warning, by the way."
Rusty slipped out between two visibly drunk Saurians and homed in on Oezlel. "Can you read her now?"
"Yes, I have isolated her mind..."
NOW?!? the Hunter demanded, as Rusty resisted the urge to shed his coat and move in for the kill.
"...It's not her."
Dammit! "Are you sure?"
"Fairly certain. I am able to project positive images to her with no telepathic feedback or backlash. If she is an Undine, then they are much better at hiding their minds than we ever suspected."
"Okay, let her go," Rusty veered across the street and walked half a block in the other direction before stopping and waiting for Oezlel to catch up.
"Where to now, Commander?"
Rusty showed her the list. "Vice Ambassador Tom Sloane, of New Wales Colony. His embassy's in Cardiff, old Wales."
Oezlel frowned. "Commander, assuming we do discover Zetaz's infiltrator, what then? I don't think I need to remind you that your protocol for confronting an Undine calls for at least three trained personnel. And that's only if two of those three are you and Reader-Commander."
I can take them, the Hunter told Rusty, closing his mind so that the Reman couldn't hear. I'm fast enough that they can't do more than throw me with their telekinesis. I can anticipate that, and use it to my advantage. After sparring with Alexei... I know I can take them. "For now, we'll just identify and observe," he told her, trying to ignore the Hunter.
"Understood, sir."
Rusty checked the time on his PADD, and started looking up rail schedules. "I'm avoiding the transporters because they're too easy to trace. It's about three hours to Cardiff by train."
"We should get moving, then."
Pyramid Club, San Francisco - 1806 hours PST
"...Real food, that costs real money," Jesu explained as he and Flt. Adm. Magda Rogachev stepped out of the turbolift - on the 50th floor of the 48-story skyscraper. "I wouldn't dare subject you to my cooking, and there're only a handful of other restaurants in the city that use real ingredients. And none of those are so... refined." He nodded to the maitre d'.
"Ah, Admiral Rogachev, Admiral LaRoca. How pleasant to have you dine with us. This way, please..."
They were seated in the middle of the west-facing windows. A waiter appeared and took their drink orders, and then they were alone behind the sound dampeners.
"Would it dissapoint you to know that you are not the first junior admiral to bring me here?" Magda Rogachev asked amusedly.
"A little," LaRoca admitted. "Who beat me to it?"
"Greg Sander introduced me to this place in '81. There've been a few others... Marcus Kane had the most interesting conversations..."
"I guess I'm in good company, then," LaRoca said good-naturedly, as their waiter rematerialized, followed by their drinks.
The Admiral gave a slight smirk. "We'll see," she said cryptically. "Do you know what the single common factor in all of those visits here was?" She folded her hands. "Every time, they wanted something."
LaRoca averted his eyes, looking to the waiter who was standing unobtrusively to the side. "What are the specials tonight?"
"Tonight we offer tonnarelli with urchin eggs, crispy veal sweetbreads filled with white truffle, thin-sliced Njeguka pruta on grilled local sourdough, shelter bay abalone and Langostino lobster curry, roasted Himalayan quail, and Numerian dolphin filet. And tonight we have appetizers of fresh fin whale onomi tataki or bluefin sashimi. And I believe the Finsch's duck foie gras is still available in a variety of preparations."
"And for dessert?" Magda asked.
"Tahitian vanilla ice cream with Amedel Proceleana chocolate, cassata with Irish cream and rippleberry-pomegranate compote, chilled Yubari melon, and of course our famous zabaione, made with Dom Perignon and flavored with espresso crema."
"I'll have the pruta," she said. "And tell Xavier in the kitchen that I'll want his fried white mushrooms with it."
"Very good, madame. And for sir?"
Jesu was looking over the regular dinner menu and doing a fairly good job of concealing his panic as he discovered that none of the haute cuisine offerings actually appealed to him. "Uh, the sashimi to start and... um..."
"He'll have the wagyu strip, with a baked potato, and butter-fried asparagus," Rogachev cut in, saving him.
Jesu didn't see steak on the menu anywhere but he added "Medium rare?" hopefully.
The waiter sniffed snobbishly, "Very well, madame, sir..." and derezzed.
"You're learning," Magda told Jesu. "It's about time. This is how we play the game in the big leagues..." she leaned forward. "For future reference, when you take someone from Procurement, or the Federation Council to this place, know the 'off screen' menu... Haute cuisine is fine for holovid stars, but not for our sort."
"I've, um, only been here once," he admitted, locking eyes with her reflection in the window. "For lunch."
"That explains it. The lunch menu is much more informal." Rogachev nodded absently and stirred some stevia into her iced tea. "And since we're being informal, I'll be using your first name, and you're going to answer me by mine."
"Ranks off?" Jesu asked.
She nodded. "What's going on, Jesu?" she asked. "Why are you hell-bent on getting beached or thrown out?"
He just stared at her, and she stared back at him. "I've half a mind to pull you into headquarters right now, if for no other reason than to get you off Quinn's radar, and out of the public eye... not quite like they did to Kirk, but you've been short a staff tour already."
"You know what I've been doing out there..." he started.
"Yes, and I can't imagine you not doing it," she said. "But I also know what you've been doing down here - the methods that worked out in the deep black don't work here."
"What do you mean?"
She sighed. "You're making enemies, and some of them are enemies I can't shield you from, and they have the power to destroy you, which I do not want. I've let you have your head for a long time, Jesu, but you've gotten it jammed in a game you have no idea how to play, with people who have no compunctions about using that naivete to annihilate you... and I can't help you, if I don't know what you're trying to do."
"I'm not playing a game," he said evenly. "I'm trying to... I'm trying to stop the Federation from getting stuck back in a quadrant-spanning war."
"You're not playing a game, but the people you're up against are," Magda told him. "Stalin said 'one death is a tragedy, a million is a statistic.' The people I'm talking about earn their power and position through war. They sleep soundly over statistics in the billions, and have the power to create those statistics with a word to the right ear, or by merely raising a hand in a meeting at the right moment."
"So I'm trying to find people who will ignore those words, or keep their hands down," Jesu said. "The Council vote next week-"
"But what you're looking for isn't that," she countered, "because thanks to ten years of warfare and contracts, ten years of expansion of security measures and attendant powers, you need to find people willing to speak against... and able to influence." She sipped her tea. "You need players, Jesu, not abstainers - the abstainers are outnumbered."
"I'm starting to realize that," Jesu muttered, as a non-holographic waiter brought out his sashimi. "The people I got to push the treaty with Moab... half of them have moved to the other camp, and the rest are in a very quiet minority."
She nodded. "You're learning, I knew you would... eventually. Unfortunately, you're up against something else - your own actions since you got back." She ticked off on her fingers, "The meetings with the Foreign Minister were a good start, but she's not got the pull her predecessor did, and she's regarded by most of the Council as a place-holder. You made an enemy when you met with Okeg - well, several enemies... and you're championing a lost cause, which increases your challenges ten thousand fold."
"What, you think I should have taken Okeg's offer?" LaRoca... not quite snarled, but he didn't ask the question politely either. "You think I should be leading the charge to pacify the Confederacy?"
"It would have gotten you into a position where your abilities and experience would have given you leverage you don't have here," she told him. "Council Politics is the wrong battlefield for the unprepared - and you ARE unprepared, Jesu." She sighed. "My fault, partly... but that is atmosphere out the airlock now. You need to pull back, and start organizing, and you need to learn how these people play their game; the rules, the ones to follow... and the ones to break." She regarded him calmly. "It will feel like your soul is dying. Trust me... but if you really want to stop this war, if you want to have anyone left to save, that's what you must do."
Jesu poked at his tuna. "I can't do that," he whispered. He looked up. "That would mean... if I don't fight this, now, that would mean forfeiting on a promise. And I can't do that."
"You have to decide, Jesu - the promise, or the lives," she told him. "Either way, you're a new player in their damned game, and you don't know the rules, and if you keep using the same tactics you ARE using, what they do to you..." she paused. "Sometimes, in battle, you make sacrifices. You're at a point where you have to choose between sacrificing yourself, or letting others burn... not your life, Jesu, your self, what the Klingons call your quv. You can try to keep a promise, or you can try to save millions of innocent strangers. That's the stakes in this game."
"I'm trying to do both," he told her. "There's still the Council vote, and the independence movement is gaining momentum. The Council is still beholden to the will of the voters-"
"The voice of the people is small, Jesu. A yammering crowd on a street corner do not put these people in office. Starfleet contracts and defense programs are what buy seats. You name me any member of the Starfleet Procurement Committee, and I will tell you if they were put there by Star Enterprises or by Kane Industries. I can tell you, not one of them was voted in by those kids you see on the news waving signs around and chanting." She gestured at his sashimi. "May I?"
He was frowning, but he nodded.
She stabbed at a piece of his raw fish with her fork, and dragged it through his wasabi and popped it in her mouth. Then she went on. "And the Foreign Affairs Committees are even worse, trust me. Without some conflict to resolve somewhere, those people are out of a job. I tell you, Jesu, without preparation, and without making that sacrifice, you'll lose."
She took another drink. "I was once in your position, facing this choice. It didn't get easier, but the few successes were worth it. Your best bet on influencing the council will require sacrificing your morals, your ethics, and your personal honor... The ones on the council who might be turned to your side, will demand things you will find indecent, unethical, abhorrent, even evil," she said quietly, "but they're more effective than hoping ideals can win against political advantage in things wildly unrelated to your cause."
LaRoca digested her words as their meals were brought out. "This... this system you're saying I have to fight... It's not about Moab for them, is it?"
"No, it's about issues that are older than you or me or the whole Federation. It is the dark side of democracy, Jesu. Even as long as I've been involved with Starfleet at this level, there are lines I can't cross - won't cross... that you'll have to cross, because of how deals have been made, and who's made them," she said. "I really, honestly, hope you don't cross those lines, Jesu. You're still a good man. Once you start playing at that level, you won't be - ever again... take it from someone who knows."
Jesu thought of the dirt list he'd compiled from the data dump, and realized that all he had was a handful of commercial-grade fertilizer to throw at people who shovel sh*t for a living. He knew Mags was right. Once you swim in that filth, it seeps into your pores, into the fabric of your being, and you can never wash yourself clean again. Papa Sander had told him that once... "So... what's the alternative?"
"Step back, bide your time," she said. "Save who you can on the side, and look for an opening - some way to turn the game over... but that will require you to learn how they play." She chewed one of her fried mushrooms. "Eat your steak Jesu, before it gets cold."
* * *
Controlling my feelings for too long
Controlling my feelings for too long
Controlling my feelings for too long
Controlling my feelings for too long
Forcing our darkest souls to unfold
And forcing our darkest souls to unfold
And pushing us into self-destruction
Pushing us into self-destruction
And they make me
Make me dream your dreams
And they make me
Make me scream your screams
Trying to please you for too long
Trying to please you for too long
In visions of greed you wallow
Visions of greed you wallow
Visions of greed you wallow
Visions of greed you wallow
And they make me
Make me dream your dreams
And they make me
Make me scream your screams
Controlling my feelings for too long
Controlling my feelings for too long
And forcing my darkest soul to unfold
And forcing our darkest souls to unfold
And pushing us into self-destruction And pushing us into self-destruction!!
And they make me
Make me dream your dreams
And they make me
Make me scream your screams...
USS Nighthawk, 40 Eridani A shipyards - 1916 hours
"...You were due to report to Dee-Ess-Kilo-Seven four days ago, Captain." Rear Admiral David Charles Huntington glanced at the side of his monitor and corrected himself. "Four days, two hours, sixteen minutes."
M'karret shrugged. "Unavoidable maintenance delays, sir. Look at it this way - I'm not as late as I would be if the warp coils fell out alignment while we were slipstreaming..." He forwarded the data, which in this case was true. The thing about a hull as old as the Nighthawk, which was the third Sovereign-class built after the USS Sovereign and the Enterprise-E, is that if you looked hard enough you probably could find something to worry about. Pulling in here had been an excuse to buy time, but the yard apes had found something that they didn't have the means to detect themselves until it failed. The benefits of having much better diagnostic tools than could fit on the ships.
On the monitor, Huntington glanced at the sent data and nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Good call. I'd rather have you here late, than not getting here at all. How many did they replace?"
"Four on the starboard Nacelle, three port. She's always tended to run a bit unbalanced for the past fifteen years or so. Melissa Travis's crew had found a way to balance that out a few years back - but according to the yard chief, by then the damage was done."
The Admiral grunted. "Yeah, that kind of stuff can sit hidden for years before it fails." He'd served a long time on another old Sovvy, the Ark Royal, and was very familiar with the type's foibles. "What's the ETA on getting that wrapped up?"
The Caitian glanced at the desk terminal. "They're reinstalling the cooling ducting and will be ready for static tests in about an hour - those can run 12 hours or more. After that," he said, thinking, "we can do the mobile tests en route to Kay-Seven. There are other facilities along that route should they be needed, but most of the fine tuning can be done inside the ship."
He wasn't happy - but also couldn't argue with facts. "Very well, finish your repairs and get going ASAP. I'm not going to hold this against you - because at least you pulled in to have something that bothered you checked. I'm gonna be short the Billy D because they didn't listen to that nagging voice, and lost their main EPS array. They had to be towed in to Kilo-Seven and won't be leaving soon. Still, the sooner you get here, the better. Get your ship fixed, and get moving. Huntington out."
As the connection ended, M'Karret let his poker face drop. He still had a crew that, for a good number of them, did NOT want to take part in this 'mission', and one he himself wasn't sure was legal. Oh sure the courts had said it was - but JAG was divided, and his own instincts said it wasn't. He'd asked for clarification from home... hopefully there would be something he could use, to either find a way to refuse with honor... or convince him that this was the right path.
Seacliff - 2247 hours
When Jesu got home, he found the holoviewer turned off, and Reader relaxing in his recliner reading from a PADD and sipping at a bottle of mineral water through a straw. "Where's Georgia?" LaRoca asked.
"Georgia... apparently did not have as much beer as she thought she did," Reader deadpanned. "So she's gone to a bar to watch the news with Kelly Hu, Hamlin, and Sticks."
"Georgia can't drink at a bar," Jesu pointed out. "She's only nineteen."
Reader sucked on one of his teeth. "That's true. I must have neglected to mention that to her." He picked up his bottle. "I'm sure she'll figure it out."
Jesu went to his kitchen replicator and pressed Retrieve. Four bottles of Modelo appeared. He took one and hit Recycle and the others vanished into the pattern buffer.
"I wouldn't drink that if I were you," Reader said, glancing at a clock set in a ship's wheel hanging on Jesu's wall. "You remember that massive headache I warned you about? You'll be feeling it soon."
"I've been feeling it for a few hours already," Jesu told him. He popped the lid off and plopped down on his couch and turned on the HV. He took one look at the screen and said, "Dammit."
"Landing County didn't go our way," Spitz read. "Kelly told you, the reconstruction shifted the demographics there. More recent transplants, fewer first- and second-wave families..."
"I know. But I wasn't expecting Nationals to take that kind of a pasting. Looks like Cold Butte's holding..." he turned it off. "The sun's just coming up in An Loc. That'll be the difference, but I'm not staying up to watch it."
"How was dinner?"
"It was... good, but they have some really f*cked-up stuff on the menu over there," Jesu told him. "I'm wondering what Rusty had when he went there before... you know his theory of food is basically 'if it tastes good, it would taste better served on or with a cheeseburger.'"
"I meant how'd it go with Rogachev?"
I'll let you read it, Jesu told him, opening his mind and short-term memory.
Reader's thoughts were silent as he reviewed and analyzed the conversation with the Chief of Starfleet Command. When he was finished he said aloud. "She may be right, you know."
"She probably is," Jesu admitted. "I know she's right about one thing... well, two. First, I have no idea how their game is played."
"And the second?" Spitz-Reader read his friend's thoughts before he could figure out how to put them to words. "Sander..."
"Greg Sander... went before the Council in '83, and, well, some say he opened a lot of eyes that people had tried to hold shut since the end of the Dominion War. Basically, he ended the notion of a 'Peacetime Starfleet.' Since '83, the Council and especially the Procurement Committee have been in the mode of 'wish for peace, prepare for war.' Which is why we were able to mobilize and respond the Hobus event in '87. And why we were able to meet force with force when the Klingons invaded the Archanis sector in '05."
"But it took more than just standing before the Council and making a nice speech, didn't it?"
Jesu nodded. "Rusty and I stayed with him for... part of that year. Papa thought he'd be going back out, with a ship of his own, and he would have, if they hadn't..." Jesu stopped for a minute. "I was thirteen, fourteen years old. I didn't know all that was going on. I still don't. But I remember Papa Gregorio telling me something.
"He told me a story about a man who wanted his family to live in a shining city of lights and laughter, where everyone had everything they ever wanted, and no one was ever hurt or sick. But in order to live there, you had to go through this grueling application process and the line to get in lasted forever. Unless you were related to someone who already lived there. Well, the man knew he had no relatives living there and he worried that he would die before his family made it through the lines.
"Now, the city was surrounded by high walls and had guards watching the gate, so he knew there was no way for him to make it in... except by one way that his friend told him about. The sewer. Nobody watched the sewer. In order to keep the city so clean and healthy, it had to get rid of a lot of waste and garbage, and it all went out through the sewers. There was a whole city beneath the city, that handled the filth and trash and made the city above run the way it was supposed to. But nobody above knew or cared about the people down below, even though they were part of the same city. But the man thought if he could get in through the sewers, then he would be in, and his family could skip the lines and join him in the shining city.
"So one night he tucked his kids into bed, and kissed his wife, and told her to take the kids to city gate the next morning. And he went out the door, and walked to the outlet of the shining city's sewers. And he swam inside. He was in over his head in the most vile, disgusting, nightmarish filth you can imagine, and it was pushing him back out so he had to swim and swim with all of his strength... But he made it. He was inside.
"And he went up to the surface, found someplace to take a hot shower, and got new clothes. And when morning came he ran to the gates to see his family. But they couldn't see him. They looked right at him but they couldn't recognize him. The filth that he'd had to swim in had seeped into his pores and changed him. And so he watched the guards turn his family away.
"And then the people of the city noticed him. Even though he'd washed himself he still stank of the sewers. And no matter how hard he tried to get himself clean, he couldn't rid himself of the stink. And so they sent him below, and there he lived out his days, toiling in the sewers to keep the shining city bright and beautiful, knowing that his family could never, ever live there."
Spitz-Reader listened to the fable and pondered on its meaning. He also sensed, in his friend's mind, that Jesu was sitting on a box full of dark secrets. He only dared to pry a little. "And you think that's what happened to Admiral Sander? Why he disappeared?"
"Maybe." Jesu shrugged and drank his beer.
Reader watched the box get shoved back into the closet of Jesu's memories and get buried and lost in the disorganized mess he kept there. "What will you do now?"
"Now..." Jesu smiled wearily. "I wait for a sign."
Cardiff - 0933 hours GMT (0133 PST/Fed Standard)
"Thank you again for letting us conduct our inspection, Mrs. Keenan," Rusty said, as Oezlel led the way back out. "And I will be looking into why our office didn't notify you that we were coming."
"Not at all, Commander," the mousy-haired chief of Embassy security told him. "I am glad t' see that someone is taking these riots seriously. Good day t' you, Commander, Lieutenant."
"Ma'am."
Rusty sighed as he and Oezlel walked out of the gate. "Oh for two."
"Well, at least now we know that the infiltrator is one of the two Councilmembers," Oezlel pointed out.
"He's in San Francisco," Rusty realized, feeling a shiver of fear travel up his spine under his duty jacket. The Hunter retreated from his mind, replaced by a stronger instinct. "I need to get back there. Can you find your way back to Paris?"
The Reman Daywalker shrugged. This was not the tunnels of Crateris that she had been born to, and she found most of Earth's above-ground cities difficult to navigate, especially the older European ones. But she had a good memory, and she enjoyed exploring and finding her way around. "I'll manage, sir. And Hooper will help me if I get lost."
"Arright, lemme know how Zetaz and the others are doing. See ya." And with that he darted away, running toward the Queen Street train station, slowing only to pick his way through a knot of protesters who'd gathered around the two-block EarthSec cordon. He took a westbound train into Glamorgan to Starfleet Maintenance and Logistics Base St. Athan.
Once there he was able to run a security override on a transporter to beam him to the Treasure Island Auxiliary Station without it recording his trace. Treasure Island was the closest Starfleet installation to his brother's house without beaming straight into HQ or the Academy, where he'd be more likely to spotted and recognized. He ran along the bridge back to San Francisco to the Embarcadero BART station, and took a Munimetro airtrain to Ocean Beach. From there it was a short run to Jesu's place.
He slipped in through the back patio door at 0242 hours. Reader was asleep. Rusty silently made his way upstairs. He paused in front of Jesu's door, and looked at his own. He hesitated a moment before going to his own room to look in on Georgia. But he found it empty. He sniffed. She'd been gone for at least eight hours. He put down his bag and took off his uniform jacket, and went back to Jesu's room.
His brother was sleeping, but not well. Rusty stood in the doorway for a moment, watching his brother toss and turn. He closed the door behind him, removed the rest of his clothes and crawled into bed alongside Jesu just as he rolled over again.
Jesu woke up as he found himself pressed into the Deinon's chest. "Rusty?"
"I'm here, Zoo."
"Where'd you go?"
"I had to take care of some things. Oezlel and I narrowed down Zetaz's list..." he scooted closer. "I needed to make you safer. I'm sorry, Zoo. I'm sorry I left you."
Jesu shifted his shoulders and hugged his brother. "I'm okay. Georgia's pretty freaked out, though."
"Where is she?" Rusty wondered.
"Back at the hotel with Hamlin and Kelly. Did you find your sign?"
"Not yet."
"Damn." Jesu rolled onto his back.
"What's wrong?" Rusty asked, inching closer.
Jesu told him about his conversation with Rogachev. "So I have a choice to make: my way, Maggie's way, or Okeg's way. And I don't think my way's gonna work."
Rusty recalled the dream when he was told about the Crossroads. "Sacrifice, Separation, or Betrayal," he whispered. "Those are the options he said you would have to choose between."
"Why me?"
"He said it's because it's your choice." Rusty sighed through his nostrils and rested his head on Jesu's shoulder. "He also said the signs would be there for me to see, but I haven't seen 'em yet."
"I hope you see 'em soon, Rust," Jesu said as he stroked his brother's back. "I feel like I'm gonna get run over if I just wait here."
* * * to be continued... * * *
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
Capt. Elliot - (Benzite; his names pronounced el-YOT) voiced by Seth MacFarlane
Sure.
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
She doesn't strike me as being all that evil/loathsome.
Have you seen her in Highlander? She was pretty loathsome in that, and tried to convince the village to burn Connor rather than banishing him As actresses go, she's versatile :cool:
Have you seen her in Highlander? She was pretty loathsome in that, and tried to convince the village to burn Connor rather than banishing him As actresses go, she's versatile :cool:
It's been a long time since I watched Highlander... But anyway, she's too old. This Admiral Taylor-Smythe's second wife (not Aaron's mother) and I think she'd be in her early forties, tops.
So... fishing for comments here, any thoughts on the last couple of chapters? I know Rusty was getting into some kinda creepy territory. I hope that hasn't turned off the audience.
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
It's been a long time since I watched Highlander... But anyway, she's too old. This Admiral Taylor-Smythe's second wife (not Aaron's mother) and I think she'd be in her early forties, tops.
So... fishing for comments here, any thoughts on the last couple of chapters? I know Rusty was getting into some kinda creepy territory. I hope that hasn't turned off the audience.
In that case, I'll propose Gina McKee again (had an ex that looks just like her , so always had a softspot for her, but I also really like her as an actress...)
Comments...
The last few chapters have felt like slow-burners to me (with the exception of the Paris shenanigans) so more about setting the stage for the events to come, but some really nice details such as Jesu replicating four beers, taking one, then recycling the remainder, as that shows something beyond the 'single servings' which TNG etc tended to show. The events in Paris was definitely an action scene, and that action was flawless. Sadly, the characters involved, I'm not particularly invested in, so I didn't really care that it was happening to them. Had it been involving say Jesu and H'mL'n, Rusty and Barister, or Ssharki and Naja, then yes, I would have been absolutely riveted by it. That's not to say there's an issue with those characters, as mentioned, I'm just not personally invested in them (A bit like in the Oceans Series, I don't really care what happens to Scott Caan and Casey Affleck's characters, even though they are entertaining...) With regards Rusty and 'creepy territory'... I don't necessarily see any of it as 'creepy' per se. (I wrote Alix and Marcus' date at the Pyramid Club, 'unconventional relationships' don't bother me) I would however, say that (to me, at least) a Rice-esque homoerotic undertone is coming across, although I understand the reasoning for why, and consider that a perfectly legitimate plot aspect :cool: Something else I would note though, is that the dynamic between Jesu and Rusty has IMHO shifted from one of brothers (which was very clear in Road to Ruin) to Jesu giving off more of a 'master and pet' vibe. On another note, Magda's mention of Marcus was funny, as depending on the timing and the nature of the encounter, that could reveal that Marcus was cheating on Cameron or Siri, or, if it was in the period between 2387-2396, he would indeed have been a free agent, and Magda might simply have thought 'too many issues' (again, depending on why they were there, and if it was business or pleasure... He's not giving any answers at all )
So overall, big *thumbs up* Also, if you could take a look at the notes on the Daze doc, there're a few observations I'd appreciate your perspective on :cool:
Comments...
The last few chapters have felt like slow-burners to me (with the exception of the Paris shenanigans) so more about setting the stage for the events to come, but some really nice details such as Jesu replicating four beers, taking one, then recycling the remainder, as that shows something beyond the 'single servings' which TNG etc tended to show.
I guess I need to clarify - those were the extra beers that Georgia "thought she had," which Spitz removed from her cooler and recycled while she slept. That, and failing to remind her that she wasn't old enough to drink in public, I thought revealed a sneaky, passive-aggressive side to Spitz-Reader that we haven't seen before.
The events in Paris was definitely an action scene, and that action was flawless. Sadly, the characters involved, I'm not particularly invested in, so I didn't really care that it was happening to them. Had it been involving say Jesu and H'mL'n, Rusty and Barister, or Ssharki and Naja, then yes, I would have been absolutely riveted by it. That's not to say there's an issue with those characters, as mentioned, I'm just not personally invested in them (A bit like in the Oceans Series, I don't really care what happens to Scott Caan and Casey Affleck's characters, even though they are entertaining...)
I'm sort of on the fence about Lt. Oezlel myself. I'm trying to upgrade her into a bigger supporting role but I'm not sure how she fits in.
With regards Rusty and 'creepy territory'... I don't necessarily see any of it as 'creepy' per se. (I wrote Alix and Marcus' date at the Pyramid Club, 'unconventional relationships' don't bother me) I would however, say that (to me, at least) a Rice-esque homoerotic undertone is coming across, although I understand the reasoning for why, and consider that a perfectly legitimate plot aspect
I have to confess, I'm not 100% sure what goes on in bed with those two myself. That is, the character's aren't letting me 'see' anything. The biggest clue I got was in the last chapter, when Georgia says "It ain't nuthin' sexual, raght?" and Jesu doesn't answer.
I think that Jesu is a tiny bit creeped out himself, but not as creeped out as he thinks he probably should be. I'm very sure that Jesu, at least, wears pajama pants or at least boxers to bed. (I believe Rusty sleeps in the buff, though purely for comfort in his case.)
I don't imagine any sort of sexual contact when I write them together like that, but that level of intimacy is definitely there. I know Ennari, at least, finds it disturbing enough to regard Jesu as 'off limits.' I think Georgia was alright with it until she realized that she wasn't Rusty's first love.
Something else I would note though, is that the dynamic between Jesu and Rusty has IMHO shifted from one of brothers (which was very clear in Road to Ruin) to Jesu giving off more of a 'master and pet' vibe.
Interesting. I'll have to watch for that. I know at least one recent scene, Jesu wrestling Rusty for his PADDs in 7.2, felt very brotherly, to me at least. But I think I know what you're referring to in the last couple of chapters. We will be seeing more flashbacks to the two of them growing up, which should establish more context for their current relationship. The intention was to show how Jesu sees Rusty in Rusty's more vulnerable moments, but it was supposed to show him as his baby brother, not as a "pet."
On another note, Magda's mention of Marcus was funny, as depending on the timing and the nature of the encounter, that could reveal that Marcus was cheating on Cameron or Siri, or, if it was in the period between 2387-2396, he would indeed have been a free agent, and Magda might simply have thought 'too many issues' (again, depending on why they were there, and if it was business or pleasure... He's not giving any answers at all )
Well, she did say he "wanted something." Not saying what...
So overall, big *thumbs up* Also, if you could take a look at the notes on the Daze doc, there're a few observations I'd appreciate your perspective on :cool:
Thank you. And I'll look that over tonight.
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
I guess I need to clarify - those were the extra beers that Georgia "thought she had," which Spitz removed from her cooler and recycled while she slept. That, and failing to remind her that she wasn't old enough to drink in public, I thought revealed a sneaky, passive-aggressive side to Spitz-Reader that we haven't seen before.
Ahh, that was just my mis-reading then, I took it as in a domestic replicator having options for catering to guests (ie the multiple beers) rather than simply catering to single portions :cool:
I have to confess, I'm not 100% sure what goes on in bed with those two myself. That is, the character's aren't letting me 'see' anything. The biggest clue I got was in the last chapter, when Georgia says "It ain't nuthin' sexual, raght?" and Jesu doesn't answer.
I think that Jesu is a tiny bit creeped out himself, but not as creeped out as he thinks he probably should be. I'm very sure that Jesu, at least, wears pajama pants or at least boxers to bed. (I believe Rusty sleeps in the buff, though purely for comfort in his case.)
I don't imagine any sort of sexual contact when I write them together like that, but that level of intimacy is definitely there. I know Ennari, at least, finds it disturbing enough to regard Jesu as 'off limits.' I think Georgia was alright with it until she realized that she wasn't Rusty's first love.
I think Jesu's non-reaction probably sums it up. Character motivations can be strange, and not immediately forthcoming... It took over a decade of writing for Marcus to admit his courtmartial after Alix's death, and it took me as long to realise that after his promotion to admiral, his duel with another immortal lead to him experiencing a Dark Quickening, which explained how his behaviour got progressively worse after Cameron's death (I'd always attributed it to her loss, but, given his emotional training, a Dark Quickening explains the personality shift much more accurately than mere grief) As before, I don't consider their interraction 'creepy', it simply is what it is, and completely justified from a biological imprinting perspective.
Interesting. I'll have to watch for that. I know at least one recent scene, Jesu wrestling Rusty for his PADDs in 7.2, felt very brotherly, to me at least. But I think I know what you're referring to in the last couple of chapters. We will be seeing more flashbacks to the two of them growing up, which should establish more context for their current relationship. The intention was to show how Jesu sees Rusty in Rusty's more vulnerable moments, but it was supposed to show him as his baby brother, not as a "pet."
I think it comes across at times (at least to me) that Rusty needs Jesu emotionally, more than Jesu needs Rusty. Jesu needs a bodyguard, so he (I believe sub-consciously on his part) takes advantage of that.
Well, she did say he "wanted something." Not saying what...
Well, I already know Marcus can be evasive, if not outright dishonest, about his relationships, he craves female attention/approval (seeking to replace the mother-figure) and that leads him to make bad choices... Even without the Dark Quickening, to exagerate his negative tendencies, I think all he would have needed would have been the right woman and the right opportunity... I think we may have found the answer
Don't
Tell me what's in
Tell me how to write
Don't tell me
How to win this
Fight
Isn't your life
It isn't your right
To take the only thing that's
Mine
Proven over time
It's over your head
Don't try to
Read between the
Lines
Are clearly defined
Never lose sight of something you believe in
(Takin' in the view from the outside
Feelin' like the underdog
Watchin' through the window, I'm on the outside
Livin' like the underdog)
I've been trying
To justify you
In the end
I will just
Defy you
To those who understand
I extend my hand
To the doubtful I demand:
"Take me as I am"
Not under your command
I know where I stand
I won't change to fit your plan
Take me as I am
As I am
Still
Running uphill
Swimming against the current
I wish I weren't so
F***ed
Feels like I'm stuck
Lost in a sea of mediocrity
Slow down
You're thinking too much
Where is your soul?
You cannot
Touch the way
I play
Or tell me what to say
You're in the way of all that I believe in
(Takin' in the view from the outside
Feeling like the underdog
Watching through the window, I'm on the outside
Living like the underdog)
I've been wasting my breath
On you
Open minds will descend
Upon you
To those who understand
I extend my hand
To the doubtful I demand:
"Take me as I am"
Not under your command
I know where I stand
I won't change to fit your plan
Take me as I am
To those who understand
I extend my hand
To the doubtful I demand:
"Take me as I am"
Not under your command
I know where I stand
I won't change to fit your plan
Take me as I am
P A R T . E I G H T , . C H A P T E R . T W O :
A L L . T H A T . I . B E L I E V E . I N
Ready Room, USS Raging Tempest, Japori System - Stardate 89587.69 (2412.08.02.1211)
For once, this little corner of space was quiet. Perhaps the pirates had finally gotten the message that Starfleet would not tolerate raids against their Romulan allies. Or, more likely, they'd found easier, juicier pickings elsewhere. At any rate, Command had apparently decided that the Raging Tempest was needed elsewhere.
Capt. Takeshi Yamato looked at the new orders on his monitor - orders to report to Moab, and join the Peacekeeping Task Force under R. Adm. Huntington.
Last time we ran into Huntington, we were helping stop him from bringing the Masters here, he thought. Now we're expected to just work under his command like nothing happened? And what we're being ordered to do...
Beside him, Linda frowned. "We both know what's going on here," she said.
"Yeah, we do," Takeshi replied. "That said, I think we need to go - this'll be a good opportunity to TRIBBLE with whatever plans they have going."
Linda's smile quickly became a grin. "Pretend we're following orders, while being ready to throw a wrench into the works?" she asked. "I like the way you think."
"Thank you," Takeshi answered, before giving his wife a kiss. "Let's brief the crew - and we're going to need to make sure no one outside the ship knows what we're really up to ..."
Seacliff - same time
Jesu was swimming laps along the three hundred meter length of China Beach. He figured it was a good habit to establish. The water was as warm as it would get now in early August, and the stress of the last two months combined with a lot of sitting around on the ship had left him with about six extra kilos to work off.
He approached the end near his house and saw his brother standing on the beach and waving at him. He swam ashore through the gentle surf. "What's up, bro?"
"Reader's got Huntington on the line. And Huntington said to tell you, quote, 'Please don't blow me off again. This is important.'"
Jesu smirked. "Poor guy's been trying to get a hold of me for days, I suppose I'd better talk to him." He followed Rusty up the stairs, rinsed and toweled off, and put on a T-shirt from the Academy's '89 championship water polo team. In his office he found Spitz-Reader making a valiant effort to stall Dave Huntington.
"Here he is now," the silver-furred Ferasan announced with a touch of relief.
"Commodore," Jesu nodded at the viewer as he sat down. "How are things going?" He asked it without a trace of irony and without any acknowledgement of the three days he'd spent ducking him.
Huntington rubbed his forehead to cover the ugly look he wanted to give LaRoca. "Admiral, I know you're busy doing... whatever it is you do when you're not saving worlds from eldritch horrors, but I need to brief you in on current operations if you're going to be taking over the peacekeeping mission."
"Who said I'm doing that?" LaRoca asked him blankly.
Huntington blinked. "Quinn said Okeg wanted you to head up the mission instead of me."
"He does. But I'm not so sure I want to get involved." Jesu leaned forward. "You see, I already know a lot more about your 'current operations' than I think you want me to know."
"What do you mean?"
"Well for starters, I know about the SFI operation to tilt the Moab election towards Reconciliation, driving out pro-Nationalist businesses, providing work and TINs for new Rec voters, and more... 'direct persuasion' methods that my brother recognized from his time in MACO Delta."
"You..." Huntington bit his lip. "You're referring to the covert fact-finding mission..."
"I'm referring the TR-116b and the MACO Delta-issue phasers and shield generators recovered from the scene of the riots last month." LaRoca gave him a minute to chew on that. "And then there's the seventeen perfectly serviceable starships designated as scrap that are currently sitting in Surplus Depot Yankee-Six, which I don't have to tell you is a little over five and a half light years from the Moab System. How much you wanna bet the new Reconciliationist government is going to be 'acquiring' those ships?"
"Admiral, the situation is more complex then it appears from where you're sitting-"
"I'm sure it is," Jesu told him, "because from where I'm sitting it looks an awful lot like you and Quinn and someone at SFI have instigated a civil war and are arming the side you want to win, which would make you guilty of a lot of very serious crimes, the least of which would be violating the Prime Directive. Tell me it's not that simple."
"It- well, it's not," Huntington insisted. "First of all, I don't answer to SFI, and they don't answer to me, sir... so if you have evidence, you should be presenting it to the AG. Secondly the operational mandate for this mission is to keep the peace. And third, you know as well as I do that Starfleet equipment periodically appears on the black markets..."
"Not mk. XIV MACO-Delta gear," LaRoca intoned. "Not five-year-old Prometheus and Luna-class starships."
"I knew about the ships; they're intended as a sort of... political bribe, to lure the Confederates back to the Federation since the Klingons have effectively abandoned them in the wake of the Pentaxian mess... We were going to be delivering them regardless. The scrapping was, so I've been told, a formality, since the Federation doesn't yet have a formal agreement that would allow it under MAPS-Eta." Huntington's left eye twitched a bit as he said it, "Which was supposed to stabilize the sector... before everything went to sh*t down there."
"So what went wrong?" LaRoca asked him.
Huntington's posture slumped a bit. "I don't know... yet," he said. "If SFI was moving a separate operation out here, they didn't tell me - the teams on Moab, Cold Butte, Berun's World and Arluna were only supposed to be conducting fact finding and basic intelligence missions. If they were doing more than that, and using my task force - or yours - as cover, it's a problem somewhere between Quinn's office and the Puzzle Palace at Langley. Maybe they found something out? I don't know. What I do know, is those people are teetering on the edge of a bloodbath that will spill all over the sector and might reignite the war with the Klingons... and this task force is supposed to put a wet blanket on that fire before it spreads."
"How do you plan to do that?" LaRoca wanted to know. "Have you contacted the local leaders? Do you have anyone working toward a diplomatic solution?"
"I've been in contact with First Minister Mulvaney on a regular basis since last week, and I've been in touch with the new First Minister-elect's office as well. But Admiral, I'm a tactical commander, this needs a strategist and a diplomat... and that's you, not me," Huntington told him. "The major problem now, is that I..." Huntington turned as a subordinate officer appeared in the field of view of the camera.
"Really? you're sure?" and Jesu caught a glimpse of actual panic on the man's face, and more clearly, "Oh my god... are you sure... live??"
"What's going on over there?" Jesu demanded
Huntington looked at him. "First Minister Katherine Mulvaney has just been assassinated on live broadcast..." His face was blanched. "She was giving a... speech, a conciliation speech, talking about peace."
LaRoca's features morphed with horror. "What did you do?!?"
Huntington's expression was dismay, and for the first time, it felt like the man was actually being totally honest. "She was willing to work with us, she was helping to rein in the militants, the lunatics, make the transition smooth, she was going to help save lives and they murdered her for it." Huntington leaned close, "And I don't know if it was their maniacs, or ours."
He's not lying, Rusty told his brother through Reader. I believe him. He didn't do it.
I agree, Spitz-Reader added. He's as shocked by this as we are.
I think you're right. "Okay Dave, I'll let you go so you can figure this out, but I just have one last question," LaRoca held him. "Do you want me to take over? Because Okeg thinks I can shut this down, and I think he might be right. Do you want me to come down there and undo the mess you and Quinn made?"
"Yes, sir, Admiral. I do want you..." Huntington's expression was the most genuine Jesu had seen in this entire conversation. "We need you."
"Arright Dave. The briefing will have to wait, but next time you call me... I'll answer."
"Understood, Admiral, sir... Hopefully I'll have better information for you when we speak again. Huntington out."
Jesu leaned back in his chair as the viewer winked out. "Well, that was interesting."
"The entire Moab Confederacy just watched their leader get assassinated," the Deinon rasped. "Whoever was responsible, they just killed any chance at a peaceful resolution. 'Interesting' is hardly the word for it."
"Yes, but it's that 'whoever was responsible' part that's interesting," Reader told him. "Whoever it was, it wasn't Huntington. Which probably means Quinn wasn't involved either."
"How can I play this game if I don't even know how many players there are?" Jesu idly wondered. He looked to his brother. "Do you see a sign anywhere in this?"
"I don't know, Zoo." Rusty's forehead rippled as he relieved pressure in his skull. "I still don't know what I'm even supposed to look for."
Fairmont Hotel, San Francisco
"You should call him, and talk to him," Kelly advised. "You know he loves you."
"Donchu tell me how to live my life!" Georgia snapped. "If he loves me enough to leave his brother, he can find me." She saw the hurt look on Ensign Hu's face. "Ah'm sorry, Kelly. Ah didn't mean t' yell at ya..."
In the background, the news was playing on the HV, while they waited for Dinky to come back from the market. "...speech today when a gunman in the crowd opened fire, FNN has this footage,courtesy of RTN news..."
"What's that?" Kelly held up her hand, forestalling Georgia, and flicked the remote.
"This footage is unedited, and may be disturbing for some viewers," the anchor warned, before cutting to a view of a platform set up in Honor Park, in the heart of Nha Tranh. The outgoing First Minister gripped the podium as she spoke.
"...Nevertheless, the eyes of the Galaxy are on us all. Bulganov on Arluna may feel that the outcome is illegitimate, but that won't stop representatives from his world from taking their seats in the Assembly. Things are a bit more than tense on Berun's world, but their reps will still be reporting for work as soon as their transports arrive. Life will go on, we'll get over this period of conflict and chaos, we, together, will prove that we're not the rogue, holdback, barbarians that so many outside the Confederacy claim, but the strong, willing ally that so many outside the Confederacy have leaned on in the past... In some ways, my opponent is right: the Federation is not our enemy. The Klingons pointed this out when they signed the armistice; there is nothing wrong, fundamentally, with achieving good rela-" and then Mulvaney jerked back as a crimson stain spread from a hole in her blouse, and the too-familiar crack of a high-caliber rifle drowned out her dying word.
"GUN!" someone shouted, as the crowd erupted in a panic and scattered.
The last of the image showed medics, shaking their heads in despair while police spread out in confusion.
"Holy Jaysus f*ck," Georgia muttered. "Did that just happen?"
Kelly Hu whispered "Những người T
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
I'm starting to wonder if, by the end of this tale, Quinn will undergo the greatest danger to any long-term infiltrator - going native. Will he decide that he likes being "Quinn", enough to defy his orders and side with the locals against the Masters? Or will it be necessary to put him down in the end?
The Quinndine is a character I also enjoy a great deal...I know worffan has already seen "An Enigma Tale" but can't remember about Jonsills. I've had the privilege of working with him recently as well and he is a fascinating one for sure.
BTW, I also liked the crack about Japori at the beginning. It gave me a nice laugh!!
Christian Gaming Community Fleets--Faith, Fun, and Fellowship! See the website and PM for more. :-) Proudly F2P.Signature image by gulberat. Avatar image by balsavor.deviantart.com.
I'm finally catching up to "current events" of the last few posts of "Come the Fall" and "Strictly Business." I also managed a tie-in to Academy Daze (special thanks to patrickngo for loaning Judah Lees.)
I'm starting to wonder if, by the end of this tale, Quinn will undergo the greatest danger to any long-term infiltrator - going native. Will he decide that he likes being "Quinn", enough to defy his orders and side with the locals against the Masters? Or will it be necessary to put him down in the end?
I do think he's grown rather fond of us Humans, seeing us (at least the Moabites) now as "Strong enough to Serve" rather than "the Weak will Perish." He is committed to the Masters goals, but his motivations and perceptions are evolving. It's something to keep an eye on.
The Quinndine is a character I also enjoy a great deal...I know worffan has already seen "An Enigma Tale" but can't remember about Jonsills. I've had the privilege of working with him recently as well and he is a fascinating one for sure.
Yes, and I do need to thank you for that extra layer of depth you introduced to his character by making him a veteran of the war against the Borg.
BTW, I also liked the crack about Japori at the beginning. It gave me a nice laugh!!
I'm glad somebody caught that!
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
No problem. Honestly though you have to thank the Quinndine for that bit of information. While he was willing to give me that scene, I had NO idea until I started writing that he was going to actually drop that experience on me.
(It's so fun to imagine our characters as alive, isn't it? Sometimes it sure feels like it. )
And thanks again for the laugh about Japori!
Christian Gaming Community Fleets--Faith, Fun, and Fellowship! See the website and PM for more. :-) Proudly F2P.Signature image by gulberat. Avatar image by balsavor.deviantart.com.
I'm finally catching up to "current events" of the last few posts of "Come the Fall" and "Strictly Business." I also managed a tie-in to Academy Daze (special thanks to patrickngo for loaning Judah Lees.)
Very welcome :cool: And I enjoyed that, it worked nicely, and I think will resonate more with folks as more of Academy Daze hits the board :cool:
This is my word, this is my way
Show me a sign, sweep me away
This is my word
Heartbreaker, gatekeeper
I'm feeling far away, I'm feeling right there
Deep in my heart, deep in my mind
Take me away, take me away
This is my word
Dream maker, life taker
Open up my mind...
- Imagine Dragons, "Smoke and Mirrors"
P A R T . N I N E , . C H A P T E R . O N E :
T H I S . I S . M Y . W O R D
Thirty-five Years Ago...
La Paz, BCS, Mexico - 2377.08.03.2147
Jesu LaRoca finished scrubbing at his little brother's fuzzy body. Despite his earlier attempt to clean him up, there had still been a lot of dried blood matting his downy coat. It sorta blended in with his skin though, and Jesu was surprised at the amount that was coming off now in the sonic shower. It seemed it was all gone now, at last.
"Okay, Rust, finish rinsing off, and then I'll dry you when you come out."
"'Kay, Zoo." The tiny Deinon waited until his eight-year-old brother had stepped out, then he extended his neck, arms and tail and shook like a little dog as the pulsed microdroplets rinsed the reddish suds from his body.
Jesu toweled off and pulled on his pajama pants, then reached into the shower to turn it off. Little Rusty still stood there, shaking, spattering drops of water on Jesu's feet and legs. Jesu grabbed a fresh towel and dried his arms, and then held it out for his baby brother. "Ready?"
Rusty looked up, and flashed his teeth in what Jesu knew was a smile. He leaped a meter off the floor into his brother's arms.
Jesu cradled the two-year-old Deinon to his chest as he dried him off, and he carried the bundle of towel and dinosaur into their bedroom to get Rusty dressed in his own pajamas.
Their father looked on from the bedroom door, waiting until the boys had settled in bed. He entered the room and sat on the edge of the mattress, and reached for Rusty's head. "How are you feeling, chico?"
"Oh-kay I guezz," the Deinon answered, with a voice not meant for any humanoid language.
"You wanna talk about what happened?" Carlos asked him softly. "¿Puede decirme lo que sentiste?"
"I dunno," Rusty replied. "When I shaw dat li'l ra- wra- uh."
"Rabbit," Jesu said for him gently, knowing his brother struggled to make a "b" sound.
"Wrappit," Rusty tried to repeat. "When I shaw it, I jus' had ta chaze it. An' when I caught it, I... I... dunno."
"¿Estabas hambriento?" Carlos asked. "Were you hungry?"
"N-no. I jus' had ta... I wanned it dead. I dunno why." Rusty looked into his papa's eyes. "It was alreadeh dead tho. I could fehl it. But I wanned to ta tear it up anehway... I dunno why," he said again, and buried his face in Jesu's armpit.
Carlos stroked the back of the Deinon's neck while Jesu held him closer to his ribs. "You were just following your instincts, chico."
"Wuz dat?" Rusty rolled his head out and asked. "Wuz 'inz-stenk' mehn?"
"It's when your body tells you to do something, but you don't know why. Sometimes it's even something you know you're not supposed to do, but your body makes you do it anyway. It's like... when I play catch with Jesu, and he ducks or turns away instead of keeping his eyes on the ball? ¿Sabes lo quiero?"
"Yeah..."
"There are good instincts, and there are bad instincts. The way you always want to be close to su hermano, that's a good instinct. But your instinct to hunt and kill... that's something you are born with, that you need to learn to control."
"Oh-kay..." Rusty said, not really understanding.
"We all sometimes want to do things that we know we're not supposed to, Rust," Jesu spoke up. "Like, remember that time I ate all that candy before dinner?"
Rusty laughed. "Yeah. An'... papa made ya et all your dinner anehway, an ya barfed?" he giggled at the memory.
"There are always consequences when we do things we shouldn't do," Carlos told him gently. "This time, you only got yourself a little messy. But if you hunt the wrong animal next time, you could get yourself in real trouble, maybe even get hurt."
Rusty stopped laughing, and stared up at his papa with unblinking eyes.
"I get urges like yours, Rusty," Carlos whispered. "And worse. But I control them. I don't let that side of me take over. That's what you need to do."
"I don' unnerztan'," Rusty said.
"When you chased the rabbit, it was like, there was someone else inside of you, taking over, right?"
Rusty nodded nervously. That was exactly what it felt like.
"That other person," Carlos went on, "we'll call him the Hunter - you can control him, keep him locked up inside you so he doesn't take over... unless you really need him to."
"Why wood I nehd him?" Rusty wondered.
"When you're older, you might need him to protect Jesu," Carlos explained. "Or if you join Starfleet, and do my job..." he trailed off. "But I don't want you to think about that now, chico. For now, just promise me you'll keep him under control."
"Wuz 'promiz' mehn again?"
"It's when you give someone your word that you'll do something for them, no matter what," Carlos explained. "Or you can promise not to do something - sometimes that's harder."
Carlos leaned closer. "The thing is though, Rusty, once you give someone your word, you can't take it back without breaking it. And if its broken, you can never give it to anyone else, because they'll see that it's broken, and they won't accept it. So if you make a promise, you have to keep it. Understand, chico?"
"I tink so..." Rusty looked up at his brother for affirmation and saw him nodding grimly. "Um. Mmm-but... what if I can't?" Rusty got the sentence out with great effort, not just because forming the letters was difficult. "Wut if I can't control da Hunter?"
"Then you shouldn't make the promise," Carlos answered. "But you can at least promise me you'll try. I mean really try. Not like when Jesu 'tries' to wash the dishes, or when you 'try' to pick up your things. I mean really try like you don't want to fail." Carlos leaned closer and looked in his adopted son's eyes. "Can you promise you'll try, chico?"
Rusty thought about it for a moment, and nodded. "Oh-kay, I'll try ta keep da Hunter under control. I... promiz."
Carlos smiled, and his eyes showed a touch of relief. "Oque, chico. Now where is that book we are reading?"
* * *
After reading two chapters of The House at Pooh Corner, Carlos said goodnight to his sons and turned out the light.
Jesu stretched out his legs over the sheets and let Rusty snuggle up and get comfy.
Rusty whispered, "Zoo?"
"Yeah, Rust?"
"Why wuz papa shcared?"
Jesu was taken aback for a moment. "Papa? Scared? C'mon, Rust. You know papa's not afraid of anything."
Rusty was silent for a moment. He knew his big brother was right, but... "He shmelled shcared."
Jesu lay silently for a minute, stroking Rusty's tail. He knew Rusty could tell how people around him were feeling by their scent, and he always seemed to be right. "Why do you think papa was scared?"
"I dunno. Daz why I axed ya, Zoo." Rusty thought about it some more. "I tink he wuz shcared o' da Hunter."
"Maybe..." Jesu rolled onto his side and shifted Rusty up so that he could see his brother face-to-face. "You remember when papa told you where you came from? And what other Deinons are like?"
"Yeah."
"Papa saw what your kind can do when they hunt, when they need to be soldiers." Jesu reached for his brother's foot, and fingered his curved, 3cm toe claw. "I think papa might've been afraid that the Hunter might make you try to hurt somebody."
"Oh..." Rusty shivered, and Jesu automatically pulled him closer. The Deinon appreciatively rubbed his snout on the Human's shoulder... "You don' shmell shcared, Zoo."
"I'm not. I know you'd never hurt someone on purpose unless they were trying to hurt me. And I know how careful you are with your claws. Besides," Jesu kissed the top of his brother's snout. "I love you. Every part of you; even the Hunter. I know I don't have to be afraid of what I love."
"Mmm-b-b-buh papa..."
"I think papa has to be a little scared of this, Rust. He has to be afraid of anything that can hurt you." He pulled Rusty's head back a little so he could look in his eyes. "Papa's right. This thing can hurt you if you don't control it."
"I'll try hard, Zoo," Rusty said. "I gafe my word I wood."
Present Day...
Seacliff, San Francisco, CA, North America - 2412.08.04.0137
Rusty woke up, feeling a cool breeze on the back of his head. He turned and looked at his door. It was closed, but he heard movement outside, and he smelled...
He looked at Georgia, curled tightly under the covers. He tucked his pillow against her to hold her in place as he silently slipped out of bed. He opened the door and looked up the hallway, catching Jesu at the top of the stairs.
"What's up, Zoo?" he whispered, gently closing his door behind him.
"Um... nuthin', Rust. I was just... checking on you guys. I didn't mean to wake you."
His brother was hiding something. Rusty could smell it on him. He approached Jesu's side. "What's wrong, Jesu?"
"Nuthin', I just..." Jesu gave up and sighed. "I can't sleep. I need to decide what to do about Moab, and... I can't." He looked into Rusty's glowing, green-gold eyes. "If you could read a sign for me, it would really help right now."
Rusty looked down at his feet. "I dunno, Zoo. I'm startin' to think that maybe these crazy dreams I'm having... are just that. Dreams."
"You told me what you saw while you were in stasis felt like more than that though."
"Hallucinations. And elements keep popping up again in my dreams. Meru, Drake, the Old Deinon... it's all the same hallucination."
"You told me the Old Deinon felt different," Jesu persisted.
"I dunno. I was lost, scared and confused then."
"And now?"
Rusty looked up. "Now it's... the same words, different feelings. I don't know how to explain it."
"You both need sleep," Reader said, coming up the stairs. "You are going to lose your minds if you don't turn them off for a while." He looked at the Human and the Deinon in turn. "At least try to sleep for my sake. You think loudly."
"Sorry, Spitz," Jesu mumbled.
Reader turned to the Deinon and whispered, "Rusty, perhaps the reason you can't see your signs is because you're wrapped up in something - or someone - and it's blinding you. Perhaps even leading you off your path."
"Georgia?"
"You need to talk to her, and tell her the truth. I've read her thoughts. She is not shielding them. She knows the truth, but she is denying it to herself. She needs to hear it from you."
"What truth is that?" Rusty asked.
"That you don't need anything from her. That what you need, you can get only from your brother. That you love her, and that you will always be there to fill her needs, but that you need nothing from her in return."
It took Rusty a moment to process that, and to consider how she would react. "That would... that would end us."
"Maybe," Reader acknowledged. "Maybe she will feel relieved, and accept the place you have in your heart for her. But I know she is not happy where she thinks she is now. Either way, it will be for the best."
"She... she needs time," Rusty insisted. "She needs me, right now, more than ever. Everything she's held onto from Moab is falling apart now."
"Time is something that none of us has," Spitz-Reader said softly. "Your brother is out of time. He is to go before the Council in less than thirty-six hours. He needs you to guide him, and you can't do that if Georgia is pulling your attentions away."
"Chingues," Rusty hissed. Some will fall away... He looked to his brother. "Zoo... I... I don' know if I can help you anymore."
"Reader's right," Jesu told him. "You need to sleep. Take your hypo."
Rusty sucked on his foreteeth. "Are you sure?"
Jesu nodded. "You need it."
"What about you? And don't say 'that's what coffee's for.'"
"I've got something else I can try. Something I promised Judah I'd try... I'll be alright."
Rusty shifted his feet uncertainly, and began to shiver. It was cold out here...
Jesu wrapped him up in a hug. "I'll be alright, Rust. I promise."
Reader nodded, turned and went back down the stairs.
Jesu released his brother after a moment and returned to his room.
Rusty stood there a moment longer, staring at Jesu's door, wondering what he was doing but not daring to intrude. Then the chill drove him back to his own room, where the climate control was set ten degrees above the ambient temperature. He stepped past the bed where Georgia still slept, and entered the bathroom. His hypo was there, on the top shelf of the cabinet behind the mirror over the sink.
He knew it wouldn't stop the dreams. But it would at least keep him under for the next six hours. He looked back at the chronometer, shrugged, and dialed in the dose. The familiar lukewarm feeling spread from the injection site as the narcotic blend permeated his system. He had just enough time to put the hypo away and crawl back into bed next to Georgia before he slipped into his subconscious...
* * *
"There's two ways it can go, kiddo."
Rusty is standing on a broken path, and the worst of all possible things is right in front of him. Drake Tran, sitting... no, nailed to a stump.
"What are you doing here?" the Deinon snarls.
"Ask yourself, Rusty LaRoca... why'd you bring me here? You already know the answer... but maybe you brought me, because you know what I did." Drake kind of slumps to the left. "Look at that happy bunch over there, for instance..."
In spite of himself, Rusty looks. The field beyond contains a cut-out view of a house, children are running to a kitchen, calling for their mother. A normal, happy family.
It takes him a moment to realize it is Georgia, sweeping one of them up in her arms, the child squealing with delight.
"Wait 'til yo' pappy comes home!" she admonishes, "He's gon' be home today, you'ns wash up now."
"Now, look down the other path," Drake croaks.
Rusty sees a woman, alone... aged, lonely, bereft of family and joy. He watches as she fills a sink in a house that - aside from the collections of neglected things - is the same as the one that hosted the family. He keeps watching her as she fills the sink, and picks up the knife.
"Notice what's missing, Rusty?" Drake Tran wheezes, "What isn't in either picture?"
"No," Rusty tells him.
"You. Neither place." Drake's head rolls to the left. "But in one, you let her go, and she got what she needed..." It rolls back to the right. "In the other, you held on too tight, didn't let her choose her wings, didn't let her sing her song... and she died alone because you still weren't there."
Drake brings his head forward to face him. "You won't be there for her, Rusty, no matter how much you want to. You need to decide, you need to do it soon... and you need to be willing to live with the consequences... and doing that, believe me, is a stone b*tch."
"Is this ALL?" Rusty demands.
"You ask yourself, you brought me here, brought me back..." Drake replies, "again. I'll tell you this - letting go is hard, and she might hate you for it a little bit, but she won't hate herself if you do it now." Drake slumps, "Elizabeth never really forgave me, neither did her mom... and they were right. But at least they didn't end up like... that." the dead man looks to the right.
Rusty looks at Georgia, slumped in the sink, the water overflowing and red.
Drake Tran looks up at him again. "So, you gotta make the hard call, Rusty. Do you really love her, or is she just convenient?"
* * *
This is my word
This is my way
Show me a sign
Sweep me away
This is my word
Heartbreaker
Gatekeeper
I'm feeling far away, I'm feeling right there
Deep in my heart
Deep in my mind
Take me away
Take me away
This is my word
Dream maker
Life taker
(Open up my mind!)
All I believe
Is it a dream
That comes crashing down on me?
All that I hope
Is it just smoke and mirrors?
(I wanna believe, oh)
But all that I hope
Is it just smoke and mirrors?
All that I've known
Buildings of stone
Fall to the ground
Without a sound
This is my word
Heartbreaker
Gatekeeper
I'm feeling far away, I'm feeling right there
I'm starting to cave
I'm losing my flame
I wanted your truth
But I wanted the pain
To disappear
Dream maker
Life taker
(Open up my mind!)
All I believe
Is it a dream
That comes crashing down on me?
All that I hope
Is it just smoke and mirrors?
(I wanna believe, oh)
But all that I hope
Is it just smoke and mirrors?
Believe...
(I wanna) believe...
All I believe
Is it a dream
That comes crashing down on me?
All that I hope
Is it just smoke and mirrors?
(I wanna believe, oh)
But all that I hope
Is it just smoke and mirrors?
...
Jesu LaRoca woke up slowly, and glanced at the chronometer. 1053. He sat up in a panic, but relaxed when he remembered it was Saturday. As if that matters, he told himself, as his brain continued to wake up and he remembered all he had to do.
He washed and got dressed and went out to the hall. He saw Rusty's door was open, poked his head inside and found the room empty. He went downstairs and found Reader, but no one else. "Where're Rusty and Georgia?" he wondered.
"They went out an hour ago. You slept in," Spitz-Reader commented.
"Yeah."
"Good. You needed it."
Jesu went to the kitchen replicated a quadruple espresso and a bowl of cereal, and sat down where he could see the holoviewer. "Let's see what's making news today..."
The HV came on with FNN, Your Eye on the Galaxy: Secession Crisis!
"I'm your Host, Rhosa ch'Arleide. It's been less than forty-eight hours since a series of terrorist attacks occurred in the wake of the assassination of Moab Confederacy head of state Katherine Mulvaney. And it's been a horrifying few days." The Andorian newsreader turned as a window-screen popped up, displaying a shot of a crashed Danube-class Shuttle on the grounds of a modern-looking building that'd been pocked with plasma and explosive burns.
"According to official Federation sources, anti-independence groups filled with disenfranchised former child-soldiers, known as 'Discharge Kids,' attempted to seize the Governmental Executive Building in the city of Yellowknife, on the world of Cold Butte, after capturing several planetary militia armories. Starfleet sources deny Federation involvement in the attempted uprising, that left hundreds dead in the wake of ten hours of high-intensity fighting..." the floating image shifted. "Governor Debra MacAulliffe, one of the targets of the uprising, held a press-conference accusing the Federation of backing the rogue attack, and invoking something called 'Paragraph Twelve,' which we are told amounts to a declaration of a state of civil war."
"Oh, for sh*t's sake," Jesu muttered at his cheerios.
"With more on that, here's Def Slanek, our in-office expert on the region. Def?"
The scene on the HV changed to a comfortable office, and a Betazoid with sandy hair and dark skin smiling at the viewer. "Thanks Rhosa. The invocation of 'Paragraph Twelve' is indeed a formal declaration of a state of hostile occupation - and a declaration of civil war. The reference itself is to the charter constitution first used on Moab III during their period of isolation shortly after founding. People watching back home have to remember, that document was written shortly after the invention of warp-flight, by a colony group that had recent memories of the Third World War, the Holocaust Courts, and a much closer memory of the Eugenics Wars. The twelfth paragraph of the document specifies processes to maintain government and military forces in the event of a hostile takeover of the central government by either outside, or internal, forces.
"By invoking the twelfth paragraph, Governor MacAulliffe has declared that Moab III - and specifically the capital and government infrastructure local to that world - are under hostile foreign control, and therefore is not a legitimate government. She's effectively said that the nation is invaded and the government on Moab has to go."
"What does it mean? For the viewers at home?" Rhosa's voice asked.
"In short, once confirmed, it means that steps can be taken, including the use of MCDF Space Navy and Marine assets - which are specifically forbidden to be used in domestic matters under Paragraphs Two and Three of the Constitution - to remove the occupation government and restore what the document says is a 'legitimate' government in their place. It's rather vague and broad, and illegitimate invocation of Paragraph Twelve carries a death-penalty if it is not confirmed and supported by a majority of member worlds."
"Is it legitimate, according to your best knowledge?" Rhosa asked.
"No," Jesu grumbled, predicting FNN's spin-cycle response.
"I'm... not sure," Def said, and flashed a grin to the camera, revealing perfect teeth. "If the Governor's allegations prove to be correct, then it is. But... Starfleet and Colonial Enforcement have both denied Federation involvement in the attack on Cold Butte, and in similar attacks by radical militants on Berun's World... It seems to me the Governor may have placed her neck in the noose on this one..."
"We now go live to the hanging of Debra MacAulliffe," Jesu muttered.
The scene changed instead back to the FNN-Paris newsroom.
"Thanks Def, in other news, Holostar Jevienne' D'Salna gave audiences a brief accidental shot of what she'll be showing in her new one-woman Broadway show during an interview with Holostar Interstellar. The 'wardrobe malfunction' was viewed by over two billion sentients..."
Jesu growled and hit the selector. "Or we can bury the real news under Hollywood garbage again!"
The RTN logo for the local affiliate spun into place on the HV...
RTN - News On Time!
"...and we're back, for those viewers just tuning in, I'm Sarah Pratt here in the Holovee Twelve newsroom in San Jose, and we're carrying up-to-the-minute coverage of events halfway across the Galaxy... If you're looking for more on the D'Salna wardrobe malfunction, that's on the FNN affiliate, we're not covering that."
"I knew I liked you guys for a reason," Jesu said, leaning back and sipping his coffee.
A new graphic popped up: Marching to War?
"Starfleet has continued to transfer units of the Border and Earth Home Fleets, to the troubled former Federation colonies in the Moab Confederacy as part of President Okeg's announced 'peacekeeping plan', dubbed, obviously, 'Operation Peacemaker.' RTN sources have confirmed that Starfleet has already begun putting into action a support package for the recently elected government of Donald Odelaw on Moab III. Rumours were confirmed this morning that a number of vessels from the mothball facilities at SMC Surplus Depot Yankee-Six were retrofitted and will be supplied to the Odelaw government as part of a complex, scheduled plan to free Starfleet assets from anti-piracy patrol duties in the area.
"Sounds simple, doesn't it?" The young twenty-something woman on the screen asked her viewers. "Well, it's not. Those ships probably will not be involved in counter-piracy operations, because a majority of legislative representatives on two worlds of the four systems formally in the Moab Confederacy, and one major collection of orbital colonies, have joined Governor Debra MacAulliffe, the leader of the Confederacy's largest industrial world, in declaring the central government on Moab to be under hostile foreign occupation. Klingon experts have already confirmed the Empire's estimation that the Moabites are about to have a civil war to decide the matter. Janice Leo, our Sherman's Planet Affiliate bureau chief, has more."
The new face on the screen was mixed-race, and dressed in what Jesu knew to be the native fashion for the agrarian border world. She wore only light makeup to draw attention to her eyes, which shone with intelligence that was not common among holovision reporters. "Hey Sarah. Well, it's pretty confusing out here, Starfleet officials have refused several Freedom of Information Act requests from news agencies along the border, but not so much can be said about the folks on Arluna and Cold Butte. RTN correspondents have been granted free access to prisoners captured in the recent fighting on Cold Butte in particular, with our cameras on and not so much as a frisking before we met them, and, combined with equipment captured and placed on display by the MacAulliffe government, it paints a picture of a Starfleet Intelligence mission gone wrong."
A holocam panned a collection of weapons on a table, and somebody - Jesu thought it sounded like the same ex-MACO they had analyzing Mulvaney's shooting - was describing what they saw.
"...This is a TR-116B-model special purpose rifle, the direct descendent of the Dominion-War era TR-116 rifles used by MACO Delta units. The B-mod was just approved for purchase by the Starfleet Materiel Command last year, and is only produced in limited numbers by Barrett Firearms Manufacturing in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, on Earth. As you can see..." The camera panned along the table, "there are quite a few of these here on Cold Butte, a world that went independent before the rifle was adopted, which supports the claims of several men we interviewed that they were, in fact, deployed here by Starfleet Intelligence, under orders."
"I wonder why FNN didn't mention that," Jesu grumbled sarcastically.
Janice Leo was back on the screen. "...As of right now, Starfleet officials have refused to comment, even when specific names were submitted, and information requests on personnel records have likewise been met with outright refusals. In the case of one name dropped by multiple prisoners, those refusals were accompanied by a cease-and-desist order citing the Emergency Powers Act of 2407."
"Which name was that?" Sarah's voice asks.
"Alleged Starfleet Captain Edward Stebbins, who is still currently at-large after the failed takeover attempt on Cold Butte, Sarah... He's likely to be looking for a means of escape from the planet, since he is not only wanted by the government and facing a stack of charges including possible espionage charges, but also has several private bounties totalling into the millions of bars for his capture and delivery, with only a small discount for his dead body."
"Dead or alive then?" Sarah asked.
"Yes, Sarah. The price on his head is for the direct, personal murder of one of his followers, and the near murder of another - and is being offered by a private concern and held in escrow by the firm of 'Justice incorporated', a private security company located on Cold Butte."
Spitz-Reader, who had already read the news reports and was trying to tune out the talking heads and the Admiral's responses, suddenly looked up at a stray thought. "Do you really think your father would try to collect?"
"If I thought of it, you can bet he has," Jesu replied. "I sure as hell wouldn't bet against him taking this Stebbins down."
"...What about the summary executions?" the newsreader went on. "In her announcement, our viewers saw quite a few bodies hanging behind the Governor."
"Those have, thankfully, stopped," Janice answered, "as well as the drum-head courtmartials that preceded them. This was after the Denali ambassador voiced concerns about the treatment of prisoners taken in the wake of the coup attempt. The press, and international observers, now have an open invitation from Governor MacAulliffe to look in on the surviving prisoners, interview them, and monitor their treatment per the Antares Articles of 2356."
"Have any official neutrals accepted the invitation?" Sarah's voice asked. "Seems like it could be risky..."
"Yes, Romulan Republic observers, KDF officers, and representatives from several Federation worlds have been granted access to the compounds and jail facilities, as well as Denali Diplomatic Corps investigators. The Interstellar Red Cross and DWBI have also sent medical teams, to treat those injured in the attack as well as the prisoners. It seems the only people who haven't, so far, at least applied to look in on the prisoners, are Starfleet and Federation officials..."
"Abso-f*cking-lutely ridiculous." Jesu got up and muted the viewer. "Those pendejos here are giving us all un mal nombre. Spitz!"
"Yessir?"
"Ring up Hibiki. Somebody has to set the record straight, and I'm pretty sure this lands under her job description."
Foreign Minister's Residence, Paris - 2032 local
"I'm sorry, Admiral, but I can't make a statement at this time," Ryoko said to Jesu over the comm as she was busily changing from her office suit into something more comfortable, while making sure to keep out of visual line from the monitor to keep him from seeing more than he should.
"Why the hell not?" LaRoca demanded from the viewer.
"Given the Supreme Court ruling that we're still trying to repeal, the events at Moab would be classified as an internal affair. If I made a statement without hard facts, I could be seen as butting in where I don't belong, and that could be catastrophic for us." And Kyoko had really hammered that point home for her when she'd first seen the reports.
"Have you been watching RTN lately? Starfleet is butting in where it doesn't belong, whether it's meddling in internal security on a member world, or in the electoral process of a foreign power... What more do you need?"
"I need facts - as close to the source as possible," Ryoko replied icily, as she straightened her top and finally approached her viewer. "I know better than to trust the newsies, Admiral. Even if they're as unbiased as RTN claims to be, they are in the business of selling sensationalism. There's a good chance they might miss something important."
"You want the source? Then call up Admiral Chakotay at Starfleet Intelligence, tell him to put you in a conference call with Vice Admiral Tanya Adams, his Deputy Director of Operations, and ask them- no, demand that they give you an account of what f*cked-up vision of a black op they are trying to run in the Confederacy."
"I tried that, Admiral," Ryoko informed with a measure of aggravation. "But I got the impression from their answers that they were as in the dark about this as we are. I think either someone went around them, or this was an unauthorized op."
"Chingues, Ryoko..." Jesu pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "You're the Foreign Minister. Starfleet is supposed to be working for you. Figure this out, and give me some ******ned support here. If you can't reign these guys in, or at least figure out who they are and officially disavow them, WE are going to be the ones looking at a civil war. Do you understand that?"
"I understand all too well, Jesu..." Ryoko said with a sigh of her own. "I'll see if I can't get anything from Erde - he may be an information broker, but remember, he has sources of his own, in addition to what he buys from people. He might be our best shot at determining the full picture."
Jesu grunted. "I got a funny vibe from that guy when I talked to him... Give it a shot, but I think you'll have better luck if you go over to Langley Station and start firing people off the top until you get to the payaso who's sending these goons."
"I know how to do my job, Admiral," Ryoko replied coldly, remembering how he'd left her outside the Palais de la Concorde. "I'll let you know how it goes. Hibiki out."
The channel closed, giving Ryoko a few minutes of silence as she organized her thoughts. Then she keyed in the comm code and password for the secure connection to Tieria Erde.
As Tieria's image appeared on the screen, Ryoko had to admit the weird vibe wasn't entirely in Jesu's head. With the purple hair, glowing eyes, and the digital sea of ones and zeroes in the background, part of her wondered if Tieria was some rogue AI, only not quite as destructive as the likes of M5.
"Minister Hibiki," Tieria said, a neutral expression on his face. "This is an unexpected pleasure for you to be calling me. What can I do for you?"
"I need information from you on the Cold Butte situation," Ryoko replied. "I need to know just what went down there - every last detail, no gaps."
"Interesting... You are asking me what happened, which means you do not support the official story the Federation government wants everyone to believe, nor do you quite believe the unofficial sources making their rounds on some alternative news channels... What do you believe, Ryoko?"
Her eyes narrowed. "I believe you're holding information I need, Tieria."
"Mmm. You know, that data dump has changed much of the nature of my business, and the release of quantum entanglement communications technology has helped ensure that change is a permanent shift... I find myself called upon to provide confirmation of things that are basically public knowledge. You're not asking for that."
"I want hard facts, Tieria," Ryoko told him. "Confirmation will come if you can provide me with the source."
Tieria's eyes seemed to sparkle for a moment. "You are asking for a lot, you realize. And so I must ask for an equal measure in return."
"Name your price."
"Certain files that were not leaked, files that your office can access. Specifically, I will require the communications codes for all of your diplomatic channels; the channels you'd use to advise your ambassadors of a declaration of war."
Ryoko blanched slightly. That was... that was important security data. "Wh-why would you want that?" she asked.
"Because it is information that you have, which I do not," Erde answered as if it were self-evident. "And I have information that you do not have, and cannot get by other means, or you would not be asking me for it. Clearly, an equitable exchange is necessary."
Ryoko sighed. This was not the kind of decision she could make on a whim. "I'll need to think about it," she replied. "I'll get back to you with my answer as soon as I can."
"Of course you will. You can sense the emerging patterns of force even with your limited view. Just do not wait until the forces overwhelm you. Good night, Ryoko."
Ryoko sighed as the monitor went blank again. Back when she'd first considered going for the Foreign Minister position, it was because she felt she could do better at the job than Martin Cave. She'd certainly proven herself in that regard, but then again, anyone could have done better than Cave, so that wasn't really saying much. Now, though...
She felt a hand placed on her shoulder, and looked up to see Kyoko standing there, also in more casual clothing. "I heard what Tieria said," Kyoko said. "I know you want to know more about what happened at Cold Butte, but compromising comms integrity to get that information isn't a good answer."
Ryoko sighed. "I... I know..." she said. "I... I might not have a choice, though, depending on how things start going..."
"Even if you had the information confirming RTN's reports, you couldn't use it in any meaningful way. What is happening in the Confederacy now will continue, regardless of anything you or LaRoca may say."
"You... you might be right," Ryoko replied, before she sighed again. "Kyoko... I... I keep finding myself in moments where I wonder if I bit off more than I could chew when I took this job..."
Kyoko smiled. "That's why I'm here, Ryoko," she said. "I'll support you through thick and thin, and help with whatever you need." She enfolded Ryoko in an embrace. "And while I was originally simply assigned to be your secretary, it's not just duty keeping me here - I love you, Ryoko, and will stand by you no matter what happens."
Ryoko smiled gratefully as she returned the embrace. "Thank you, Kyoko..." she whispered, before their lips met.
Seacliff - five minutes earlier
"I don't think she knows what the f*ck she's doing," Jesu told Rudyard. He'd rolled his chair over to the big round tank, and let his arm hang in the whirlpool current, gently stroking the shark as he swam by.
"Do you know how to do her job?" Reader asked. "Do you understand Paris politics, or the sort of pressures that are placed upon her position?"
"She's a career politician," Jesu argued, straightening up and shaking water from his arm. "I expect she knows that side of things. It's the Foreign Ministry part - administering the Federation's foreign affairs - I do know how to do that and I don't think she does."
"Right, because you got along so well with the Cardassians," Reader said sarcastically.
"Cardassian Cardassians I get along with just fine, I'll have you know," Jesu snapped at his chief of staff. "You weren't around two years ago when Nellie and I were helping them solve problems. It's the Starfleet Cardassians that throw me for a loop." His face twitched, thinking of the Avandar and who he felt was responsible for her loss with all hands. "But that's another rant."
"You're angry, Jesu. You need to do something constructive with your anger."
"What the f*ck kinda bullsh*t counselor advice is that- are you kidding me? I can never tell with you."
"I never 'kid,'" Reader told him. "Being angry with Hibiki or ch'Harrell will do nothing for you except alienating those who you should be depending on as allies."
"I guess you're right." Jesu tapped at the comm panel again. "If I'm gonna yell at someone, better make it someone who deserves it."
"Who are you calling now?" Reader asked somewhat trepidatiously.
"Figure Quinn deserves it more than anyone else I can think of."
"I don't think this is a good idea," the Ferasan intoned, but the call was already going through, and Jesu was wearing his 'game face.'
"Admiral LaRoca, good to hear from you!" Quinn smiled at him. "Have you decided to lead the mission?"
"You can't possibly be serious," Jesu told him. "Are you trying to trigger a civil war, you-" Reader intercepted his thoughts before he finished that with shapeshifting sack of sh*t.
"The Moab situation can be recovered if you step in and-"
"I'm not talking about Moab!" Jesu growled. "I'm talking about right here. The Federation. Earth. I watch the news, Quinn. The real news. You tried to kill the Governor of Cold Butte and then swept it under the rug-"
"We didn't do that!" Quinn stood up and shouted. "That was not a sanctioned Starfleet operation!"
"Well, RTN's showing uniforms and weapons that say it was," Jesu crossed his arms. "I don't care if you were in the loop or not. But you got SFI to kick off this whole mess and now it looks like they're calling the shots. Now you want me to break my word, to fight our own people to make this all stop..."
"I never wanted this," Quinn protested.
"Well, it's happening. And I'm not gonna put my name on an operation that defies every principle I swore to uphold."
Quinn sighed heavily. "Admiral... I could make it an order, and you'll resign, and there's no coming back from that. I could wait for things to get so bad you change your mind... and I'm not sure that will work... but..." Quinn sat down again, and leaned forward. "Here's the dilemma for you think about - Those principles you think you're honoring - they're about protecting life, nurturing it, and what's happening there, now, it doesn't matter anymore who's at fault. Starfleet can put this mess down in thirty days, and we've got authorization to do that very thing... and I don't want to use it," Quinn said. "But... I will, if you don't give me the option not to."
The old Trill straightened. "Please don't make me do what I'll have to do if you refuse it again." And he cut the connection.
Jesu was silent for a long minute. "Okay, you were right," he said finally. "That wasn't such a good idea."
"It seems to me that you've just added to your problems," Reader said softly.
"The problem is..." Jesu ran his hand through his beard as he thought things through. "Somebody at Langley, who apparently isn't answering to Hibiki or Quinn... Somebody who's either an irresponsible, incompetent moron who's bound and determined to get us back in a war with the Klingons..."
"...Or someone who wants us all to look like that," Reader finished. "I'm not sure which scares me more."
"The second, definitely," Jesu licked his lips. "Hacksaw's scenario. If someone wanted to make the entirety of Starfleet and the Fed Council out to look criminally incompetent, to give them an excuse to take over..."
"The current situation would certainly fit that end," Spitz-Reader agreed.
"I can't fix this, Spitz. I'm being pulled right into the middle of it, and I can't do a damn thing about it."
"Perhaps that is why..." Reader trailed off.
Why what? Jesu wanted to know.
Why Rusty can't find his Sign. I think he's looking for an answer to your problem. What if there is no answer?
"Every problem has a solution, Spitz," Jesu said aloud.
"But are you part of the equation, or are you a variable that needs to be factored out?"
Jesu couldn't answer that.
* * *
All I believe
Is it a dream
That comes crashing down on me?
All that I hope
Is it just smoke and mirrors?
I wanna believe, but all that I hope
Is it just smoke and mirrors?
* * * to be continued... * * *
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
Authors note: for those of you who haven't read "Faces in the Flames" (or don't remember; I know these stories drag out a bit) the flashback scene at the top of this last chapter follows an incident that Rusty relates at the end of this episode of Faces.
-- I like Ryoko's bit, I think she's a lot calmer and less biased than Jesu.
Our biases are grown from our experiences, and Jesu has experienced a lot more of life than Ryoko has. And right now Jesu is watching the service he loves (Starfleet) do horrible things to the people he loves. (Moab.) So yeah, he's bound to get a bit worked up.
-- Jesu's basically watching Fox now, isn't he? Well, between Fox and CNN...ugh, never mind, I'd have turned off the holo.
I try not to draw direct analogs to real-world sources (well, except for that one time.) FNN is a Federation mouthpiece news organization, basically they sell "all the news the government wants you to hear." RTN is fully independent, but they have their own biases, being owned and run by the profit-minded Jake Evans. (Who I would compare more to Richard Branson than Rupert Murdoch.)
-- Rusty is nice, and I hope that he and Georgia work out OK. They make a cute couple.
Stay tuned. Georgia's in love with that "nice" side of Rusty, but his personality is much more complicated than either of them really knows.
-- Nice to see this panicked, "oh SH*T!" side of Quinndine. I wonder if that will make Jesu reevaluate his opinions.
I think right now Quinn is somewhere between "That's not the Plan!" and "Damn, wish I'd though of that a year ago..." I will tell you though that once Jesu's got his mind made up about something, he's not likely to change it.
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
I try not to draw direct analogs to real-world sources (well, except for that one time.) FNN is a Federation mouthpiece news organization, basically they sell "all the news the government wants you to hear." RTN is fully independent, but they have their own biases, being owned and run by the profit-minded Jake Evans. (Who I would compare more to Richard Branson than Rupert Murdoch.)
Which fits- Branson is kind of who I based him on. RTN tries not to spin anything-just reports the truth as they find it, good or bad. I don't think Jake's gonna let his network go down the spinmastery tree if he can help it. Of course he has other problems presently occupying his mind.
"It may be better to be a live jackal than a dead lion, but it is better still to be a live lion. And usually easier." R.A.Heinlein
Funny...much as it sucks for Georgia right now, I am actually in the opposite camp, that the sooner the breakup happens and she can heal and eventually be over Rusty, the better for her health.
I agree that Jesu is imploding...and I have to admit, part of me almost wants to see it. What interests me as a writer/reader is seeing exactly what hitting bottom looks like and how it affects the character moving forward: whether he will continue to death spiral with increasing stubbornness, playing even more to type, or whether he could instead take any number of other trajectories. The impact that any of these directions have on others around him is IMO likely to be interesting.
Christian Gaming Community Fleets--Faith, Fun, and Fellowship! See the website and PM for more. :-) Proudly F2P.Signature image by gulberat. Avatar image by balsavor.deviantart.com.
RTN tries not to spin anything-just reports the truth as they find it, good or bad.
Uh-huh.
They're conveniently neglecting the fact that the Moab Confederacy, at this point, is basically Sudan before South Sudan's independence vote (and the border regions now). Most would agree that an outside intervention and takeover would be a GOOD thing there.
I don't think Jake's gonna let his network go down the spinmastery tree if he can help it. Of course he has other problems presently occupying his mind.
I can't buy that. Everybody puts their spin on the news/the world/whatever whenever they talk about it. For example, I'm EXTREMELY intolerant of sexual assault and cults (for personal reasons), and I know it, and I'm not able or willing to stop that from showing in my writing.
Anyway. RTN is basically the pro-Confederacy camp (to switch metaphors, they're the pro-Israel camp, or Fox), and FNN is...CNN. Just with a substantial dose of government mouthpiece.
I'd have shut the damn holo off and gone to my intel sources to find out what was REALLY going on.
BTW, I'm keeping my fingers crossed for you-know-who, hoping she pulls through without complications. My Wiccan friend and Muslim sort of maybe not quite girlfriend and praying for her, too, just to cover all bases.
...A revelation in the light of day
You can choose what stays and what fades away
And I'd do anything to make you stay
No light, no light
Tell me what you want me to say...
- Florence + the Machine, "No Light, No Light"
Can you stay for a while?
Try to imagine this
Could you be for a while?
'Cause I can't remember it
Could you fall for a while?
'Cause I can't escape from this...
- Jars of Clay, "Portrait of an Apology"
P A R T . N I N E , . C H A P T E R . T W O :
W H A T . S T A Y S . A N D . W H A T . F A D E S . A W A Y
Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, CA, Earth - 2412.08.04.1228
"This looks like a good spot!" Georgia announced.
Rusty came up the hill, which overlooked Spreckels Lake. "Yeah, this'll do." He spread out the blanket he was carrying and helped Georgia unpack their picnic basket.
The sun was shining today. It wasn't what either of them would call 'warm' but it was at least comfortable, at 24 degrees. Rusty stretched his legs out in front of him and his tail out behind him, and dug into his meal of real food that he and Georgia had scoured from shops and delis all over the Richmond district. As he ate he watched ducks and seagulls argue over who the lake belonged to, watched some kids playing soccer over on the polo field, watched the cars and bikes on JFK drive... he watched everything but his girlfriend.
"Watchoo thinkin' 'bout, Rust?" She asked, after watching his eyes avoid hers for the last few minutes.
"Nuthin', baby."
"Okay..." she could read him better than that. He had the look like he had when he was holding something back from her. "Then what aren't ya thinkin' about?"
"I dunno. It's..." Rusty hesitated. "I know it's something we hafta talk about, but I'm afraid of what it would mean for us."
Georgia reached for his foot. "Rusty, if we love each other as much as we say we do, then nuthin' we can say should change that, raght?"
"I guess..." Rusty ate another bite of his food. "It's about the future, Georgia. What that looks like, for us. I want to stay with you, but..."
"...But your brother's pulling you away," Georgia figured.
The Deinon shook his head. "That's not it at all. Jesu wants us to be together. He wants us both to be happy. But... I'm not sure if I can give you the kind of happiness you need."
"You do make me happy though," she told him, crawling forward and into his lap. "Ah've never felt so happy as when ah'm with you."
"But how long does that last?" Rusty wondered. "I mean, what happens when you decide you want to settle down, away from Starfleet, and raise a family? You know I can't give you kids-"
"Yeah, but Maria's fixed that, and she could take care of your children before they're ever born."
Georgia huffed through her nostrils like Rusty did when he was agitated. "Ah don't wanna think about that now."
"I'm not talking about now," Rusty told her softly. "I'm talking about when we're older, like, forty or fifty years from now. And beyond then."
"Hunh," she half-laughed, half-snorted. "Ya know, I never thought I'd have to worry 'bout livin' that long."
"Well, you will. There's no reason you couldn't live another hundred years."
She looked up at her lover. "And you? How long do you live?"
"I dunno," he answered. "I grew up fast. I haven't grown more than a few centimeters since I was ten. And I think I was like... fully matured at around fifteen or sixteen..." He shrugged. "Jesu thinks Deinons live like Klingons do - mature quickly, then live for a hundred and fifty years or more. But maybe we're more like Caitians, and only live for sixty or seventy years. Or maybe less. I dunno. I don't have any way of knowing."
Georgia had to ponder that for a while. When she and Rusty first started their relationship, she had a picture in her head of her growing 'old' and dying in his arms - of Rusty gently and mercifully putting her down before the Syndrome could take its toll. The idea that she could outlive him had never entered her mind. "Is that why you think you won't be there for me?" she asked him.
"I... I dunno," he sighed. "But last night I had this really awful dream..."
Somewhere outside of London, 2229 hours local
"How the HELL could this have happened!? You said that the rabble wouldn't be able to oppose your forces!" The woman at the head of the table raged. The movement had risked much with this, and lost. Not only had the Nationalist riff-raff had managed to thwart their attempted neutralization of the secession movements, but despite what Councilman Grahm had assured them, both the Denali freaks and the Klingons were involved as well.
For his part, he didn't even have the common decency to look embarrassed as she fumed. "It's merely a minor setback, Lady Taylor-Smythe," Percival Grahm replied smoothly. "The mutant troops at Cold Butte were just a local garrison from the Joint Forces Base that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Our people on Kronos assure me that the Klingons will not get involved. And there is just no way for any more of the long-eared fuzzy freaks from Denali showing up before we're ready for phase two."
"You said they couldn't interfere with phase one!" She tried to calm herself. Outbursts like this were, after all, unbecoming for a lady of her status. She held her breath for a moment, then made a dignified sniff of disdain. "We will need assurances if we are going to continue to grow the Movement among these wayward colonies. How do you know they will not interfere?"
"Time, speed, distance. Even if they got people moving after the election day fiasco, there's no way they can have anyone there before late november at the earliest," Grahm told her. "While they probably do have the new slipstream drives like everyone else, we don't believe they have the trained personnel needed for their ships." He just smiled reassuringly. "It's not even a minor setback. While it would have been optimum if we had captured Cold Butte... our polling data was flawed. Better to concentrate our resources where the people will be receptive to our message."
She nodded, shuddering a bit inwardly at the Councilman's smile. While he wasn't as... well, ugly as her husband, he was absolutely terrible in bed. The things I do for the Organization... she sighed to herself, as she forced herself to flirt with him. "While I wish we had time for more... private discussions, I really must be returning before I am missed."
"Just remember, we risk much because the rewards are so great," he said, continuing to smile patronizingly. "Soon, the Federation will be remade in our image."
Sooner than you think, she thought as she smiled back.
Seacliff - 1756 hours
"I just got off the comm with Rusty," Jesu announced, coming in from the patio. "He and Georgia are at Scoma's, still talkin' through stuff, so it's just you and me for dinner again, Spitz. Whaddaya want?"
Reader looked up from his PADD. "Meat. Recently killed, not replicated, not cooked through and tasteless."
"We've got a reservation at the Pyramid Club for tomorrow. What'll hold you over 'til then?"
The Ferasan considered. "Rusty talks about this burger place in La Paz as if it were hallowed ground..."
"Bandidos? Bit of a walk, but that sounds good." Jesu got up and grabbed his jacket.
Reader's ears perked and he stared at the door for a moment. "We have company. General Travis has some interesting news to share with you."
Jesu went to the front door and opened it to find Missy Travis about to press the door chime, out of uniform in shorts and a light blue blouse. "Good evening, General. What brings you down here?"
"Was it your security system or Spitz?" she replied with a smirk. "I was trying to keep low profile as possible, this isn't an official visit. Well, it is, but not 'officially official,' if that makes sense - my government knows I'm here but yours doesn't."
"There's a lot my government doesn't seem to know... come inside."
She didn't look happy as she followed him in, nodding at Reader. "There's a lot they do know, and won't admit. They can't afford to admit it - because if they did..." She shook her head, shuddering. "The civil war in Moab might not be the only one you need to worry about. We've got confirmation of the situation on Cold Butte. RTN has the right idea - but they don't know half of it. Figure it's only a day or two before they find out all of what really went down."
"All of what?"
"That it came within about ninety seconds of six million people dying in nuclear fire." She handed Jesu an encrypted PADD. "Report, of Major Nohar Bachchan of the SDF and Colonel Korrd of the KDF. Came over the QT an hour ago - homeworld is already aware and we should have their response in an hour or two. The weapon was local - from the planetary militia, and a lot of the grunts in the attempted coup were local - but the ones running the show... were all Starfleet."
"Six million..." Jesu found the specs on the weapon the SDF had recovered. It was a "dirty" nuke - a plutonium fission/hydrogen fusion device like Earth nations had developed during the latter half of the 20th century. It was part of a stockpile salvaged from some ancient orbital minefield and intended to be some sort of last-ditch 'scorched earth' deterrent to a Fek'Ihri invasion. It had a variable blast yield; the minimum was sixty-three kilotons - not much, but bigger than it needed to be to level Cold Butte's capital and largest city. The maximum yield - which the device had been set at, was fourteen megatons. "Why would... why would anyone want to do that?"
"According to the few survivors of that part of the raid - the SDF and KDF troops weren't in a prisoner-taking mood, but they got some. Anyway... if the mission failed, they were to get all their people clear, destroy the city and any evidence of their involvement, and pin it on the Nationalists."
"But that's stupid," Jesu insisted. "Why would Nationalists try to blow up their own capital? It just doesn't make any sense."
She shrugged. "The whole Cold Butte attack to be honest seems like it was done... well, less skillfully than the manipulation on Moab itself. They may have not thought they'd fail, believed their own intel... then had to improvise fast. Seen it before with some 'black ops' types." She stood up and looked out the window for a moment, admiring the view before turning back. "That's not the most damning part, though. In the appendix, is the list of the prisoners caught after some civvie ship did a hypersonic shockwave pass over Yellowknife - stopped the fighting long enough for them to beam the survivors of the attack on the Capitol into their brig. Civvie ship isn't listed, but I have an idea who it might be..."
Jesu and Reader glanced at each other and shared a thought. Someone wanted the attackers to be caught.
"Anyway..." Missy went on, "my XO ran the names through the BUPERS database, he's got a friend of a cousin of an uncle who's in personnel..." she highlighted a name on the PADD and handed it back to him. Jessica Clark, Lt. Cmdr, Starfleet MACO. Current duty station: classified; previous duty stations: USS Tiburon - Jan 2410-Nov 2410; USS Akula - Dec 2409; USS Mako - June 2409-Dec 2409 USS Snaggletooth - Aug 2408-June 2409. "There's a couple more on the list who used to work for you; this one was on the Nighthawk back in '09, all MACOs who got special ops offers."
"Chingame," Jesu muttered. Jessie Clark had been with him for a long time - at Brea III, H'atoria and Defera - and she ran a lot of missions for him after he established ConOps. She was one of a handful of Starfleet officers who Jesu would have trusted with his life.
"Yeah, my sentiments exactly. Dituri saved my life twice when we were jumped by the Tal Shiar..never in a million years would I have thought he'd end up in something like this. Pinned several decorations and a promotion on him myself before he got transferred off."
Jesu shook off his shock. "So what happens now? What are your people going to do about this?"
"What's my government going to do?" she shrugged. "I don't know, but I can guess. I'll get orders to head to Cold Butte as soon as they make up their mind, to keep our word to support them. I know the ex-ISS Stadi is currently streaming from Firebase Zulu with reinforcements for the base there - not sure what they renamed it to. I... I hate to say this, but even after all that happened last year... I still trusted Starfleet enough to come back, sort of. Quinn blowing us off, though-"
"What do you mean?"
"The diplomatic docks are less than five hundred meters from his office. I've been trying to see him since we arrived - each time, I get as far as his secretary. Quinn's always been level with me, and I trusted him... and I would have thought he'd be above this. But I tried again before coming here - and he's still 'not available'." She sighed, leaning forward on the couch, her head in her hands. She didn't notice that Jesu looked not at all surprised.
"It's all falling apart. But I did get this much from home: they believe - and I agree with them - Moab's enemies are going to try to destroy you, and everything you've worked for. Dr. Kaur said to tell you - that you or any of your people are welcome on Denali, and you will be given asylum if asked."
"Hmph, I think Rusty and I would handle one of your winters about as well as you'd handle a summer in Baja..." LaRoca almost smiled. Then he turned gravely serious. "If things get that bad, I'll make sure my people know the offer's there. But I won't duck and run, Missy."
"I know - we had to try though, and I told them you'd say that." She smiled a bit sadly, and looked like she was going to say something else-
Don't, Reader's thoughts appeared in her mind. He has enough on his plate now.
I know, and I wasn't going to, she thought. Even if I did... it would never work anyway. But at least I know now what I do want in someone when the urge to settle down hits. Take care of him, will you?
Of course, the Ferasan replied, seeming to smile to himself.
Missy shook her head and glanced at the clock. "I've got to get back to the Vikrant; I should be getting an answer from home any time now. Take care of yourself, okay?" With that, she signaled her ship, and disappeared in a transporter beam.
Reader handed the Admiral his jacket. "So. Dinner?"
"Yeah..." Jesu pulled on his coat and stepped outside, and they started walking familiar streets, lost in thought.
* * *
Look what I've done
This picture I've painted
It looks like my heart
Or what still remains
Convinced of the weight
Your interpretations
Are not what I see
I wish they could be
But I
Remember it
Much redder
And I
Remember it
Much brighter
(Could you stay for a while?)
Try to imagine this
(Could you be for a while?)
And I can't remember this
(Could you fall for a while?)
'Cause I can't escape from this
Try to explain
The way that the frame
Doesn't quite fit the image
Or surround the edge
It stands on display
And what do you see?
Behold, all the new gray
What's become of the old me?
'Cause I
Remember it
Much redder
And I
Remember it
Much brighter
(Can you stay for a while?)
Try to imagine this
(Could you be for a while?)
'Cause I can't remember it
(Could you fall for a while?)
'Cause I can't escape from this
(Can you stay for a while?)
Falling
Crying
(For a while)
Saying
What I am not really
(For a while)
Failing
Falling
(For a while)
Into this cage
And I can't escape
(For a while)
No, I can't escape
(For a while...)
No I can't
So look what I've done
The picture I've painted
Doesn't quite fit
Or surround the edge
But I
Remember it
Much
Redder...
Try to imagine this
(Could you be for a while?)
'Cause I can't remember it
(Could you fall for a while?)
And I can't escape from this
(Can you stay for a while?)
'Cause I can't escape
(Could you be for a while?
For a while
For a while
For a while)
I can't, I can't escape
Can you stay?
(For a while)
Could you be?
(For a while)
Could you fall for a while?
I can't
I can't escape
Can you stay?
(For a while)
Could you be?
(For a while)
Could you fall for a while?
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
Comments
What's hilarious is that Berat and LaRoca are such opposites in personality and tactics yet both manage to TRIBBLE the Quinndine off so greatly and get under his skin.
Christian Gaming Community Fleets--Faith, Fun, and Fellowship! See the website and PM for more. :-)
Proudly F2P. Signature image by gulberat. Avatar image by balsavor.deviantart.com.
She and Aaron both have a lot of growth potential. Generally you only want to kill characters under two circumstances: when you've tapped that potential and have nowhere further to "grow" them, or when the plot demands that somebody must die. It's a rule I've broken a few times myself, but it's a good one to try to follow. (Otherwise you end up looking like an overrated, overhyped YA author with a Battle Royale fixation.)
Obviously we've been writing our stories independently of one another, but I find it remarkable that Berat is the one who's ended up yelling at Quinn, while LaRoca just pissed him off with a salute.
There will be a few more Quinn v. LaRoca scenes before this is over, with I think some surprising outcomes. Stay tuned. :cool:
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
Christian Gaming Community Fleets--Faith, Fun, and Fellowship! See the website and PM for more. :-)
Proudly F2P. Signature image by gulberat. Avatar image by balsavor.deviantart.com.
...All alone
The answer to everything
All alone
It's another way out
I'm only looking for a way out...
- Wolfmother, "In the Castle"
* * *
...All the kids have always known
That the emperor wears no clothes
But they bow down to him anyway
'Cause it's better than being alone
If I was scared
I would
And if I was bored
You know I would
And if I was yours
But I'm not...
- Arcade Fire, "Ready to Start"
P A R T . S E V E N , . C H A P T E R . T H R E E :
B E T T E R . T H A N . B E I N G . A L O N E
Paris - 2412.07.31.0726 (1626 hours CET)
Jesu LaRoca stormed down the steps of the Palais de la Concorde to street level, his long stride and rapid gait carrying him quickly away from the scene of the disaster.
"Admiral, wait!" Ryoko called out. "We need to talk about this!"
"What the f*ck is there to talk about," he snarled back. "He wants a war, and that's what he's gonna get. And thanks for nothing. Absolutely nothing."
"What? Admiral-"
"Shut up and leave me alone. I've had enough talk. I need to think."
"But don't we need to-"
"Rusty, make sure she doesn't follow me!" he called over his shoulder as he stepped into the street.
Ryoko looked at the Deinon security officer. "I just want to work this out."
"That's what he's doing," Rusty told her, as he tracked his brother across the gridlock on the Place de la Concorde. Jesu approached to within a few meters of the scorch mark that was left from where Satik had died, then he veered right, stepping up onto the opposite sidewalk and heading south toward the river.
"Master Chief, make sure the Minister gets back to her office," Rusty ordered the huge Gorn NCO. "Oezlel, coordinate with Hooper, maintain scanner lock on the Admiral. Call me if any threat arises."
"Alright sir-" the Reman lieutenant started to say, but Rusty was already gone.
The Deinon lowered his head, folded his arms, extended his tail and ran, slipping through the crowds and the traffic as though the people and cars were just dull lumbering beasts. He slowed when he sighted his brother again, walking east along Quai des Tuileries. Rusty straightened up and merged with the other pedestrians. With his head raised he stood at nearly two meters, letting him track his brother over the heads of the crowds.
Jesu kept walking to the next bridge, the Pont Royale. He walked across it halfway and then stopped. He leaned on the rail, and looked down the river back at the Presidential office complex. He reached up to the right breast of his dress jacket and removed his ceremonial combadge, and fingered it as though contemplating flipping it into the Seine.
Rusty kept an eye out for protesters - who were now banned from gathering within a two-block radius of any Federation government building - or anyone else who would want to bother his brother. He intercepted a reporter who crossed the street from the Louvre, PADD and stylus at the ready. "The Admiral is not here for an interview," he rasped. "If you wanna talk to him, call his office and make an appointment."
"I only have a few questions," the reporter protested.
"And he does not want to answer them now." Rusty spread his stance. "Do you wanna walk away, or swim?"
Meanwhile, Jesu was approached by someone else. "Admiral LaRoca?"
Jesu looked around, then down at the young boy who was standing beside him, smiling excitedly. "What do you want, kid?"
"I... um." The child searched his pockets. "I, uh, I wanted your autograph, but I don't have anything for you to..."
"Forget it, buddy. You don't want my autograph."
"Sure I do! You're my hero! When I grow up, I wanna join Starfleet and fight Klingons and Borgs and other bad guys, just like you!"
"You don't wanna be like me," Jesu told him, looking back over the river. "I messed up, kid. I focused so hard on all those other bad guys out there, I forgot about the real bad guys, right here. The people who run the Federation and have no idea what it's s'posed to stand for. Nothing I've ever done out there makes any difference, if the people here are just gonna bury our ideals under red tape and lies."
He looked back at the little boy. "I'm sorry, kid. I let you down. When you grow up, the Starfleet I joined won't be around anymore. Because I ignored the real problems until it was too late to fix them."
Rusty walked up and handed his brother a PADD and stylus. "Sign this."
Jesu sighed as he took it. "What am I signing?"
"This kid's autograph." Rusty took the PADD back, holoshopped Jesu's digital signature onto a 3D imagecap of the Tiburon, and downloaded it to an isochit. He knelt down to hand the chip to the little boy. "There you go. And don't worry about the Admiral. He's just having a bad day."
"Thank you, sir!" The kid grinned from ear to ear and ran off.
"You can't believe that TRIBBLE," Rusty told his brother. "It's not true. There are plenty of good people here. And plenty of reasons to believe in them. Even though sometimes they're forced to make bad decisions..." he looked toward Okeg's office, "they're good people. And they will get things right, if you give them a chance."
"Oh yeah? And what about Moab?" Jesu asked bitterly. "They don't have time for Okeg and the Council to figure things out. They are going to have their freedoms stripped away while we sit here and watch."
"Maybe, maybe not," Rusty shrugged. "Maybe this is all part of a bigger picture that we can't see from where we are. And maybe instead of looking around and wondering how we got here, we should look forward and see where do we go from here."
Jesu put his combadge back on his coat and straightened up. "I know where we're going next." He started walking along the bridge again, toward the Mus
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
If there's a name already on the board and you've got somebody you think is better, feel free to suggest it and if I agree I'll make the switch. (See previous cast lists at the bottom of this post for returning characters.)
New faces (in order of appearance):
Foreign Minister Ryoko Hibiki - Tao Okamoto
Nimosu Oro - Keiko Agena ?
Kyoko Saotome - Yunjin Kim
Zaki bin David - Jay Baruchel
R. Adm. Herbert Richard Taylor-Smythe - Rowan Atkinson
"Lady" Taylor-Smythe - (unspeakably evil, no older than mid-40s)
Trevor - Andy de la Tour
Capt. Naomi Taylor - Vanessa Redgrave
Lt. Lountu Zetaz - (quiet, competent, remarkably forgettable features)
His Excellency Ambassador Chanan Singh - Sir Ben Kingsley
"Lady" Penelope Grahm - Gemma Atkinson
Flt. Adm. Magda Rogachev - Zo
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
Zaki bin David - (Haganah "information retrieval specialist") Eyal Podell
"Lady" Taylor-Smythe - (unspeakably evil) Celia Imrie
Trevor - (typical butler type) Andy de la Tour
Capt. Naomi Taylor - (a force of nature, even if she's hoverchair-bound)Gina McKee
His Excellency Ambassador Chanan Singh - (a man of unflappable good grace) Arnold Vossloo
"Lady" Penelope Grahm - (TRIBBLE) Gemma Atkinson
Flt. Adm. Magda Rogachev - (fiery and icy all at once) Zoe Wanamaker
Tarit - (she's not that big, for a Gorn...) voiced by Heather Graham
Adm. Rayford Cromartie - ("How many days 'til retirement, again?") Michael Ironside
Dr. Reginald Gordon Shaw - (very smart; very very slimy) James Woods
LCdr. Orjas - (Trill science guy) Kriss Marshall
Capt. Elliot - (Benzite; his names pronounced el-YOT) voiced by Seth MacFarlane
'Cause you're lost in front of me
In truth, I'm losing you
And you know it's over
When you're gonna bring down
Take everything and live for the moment
It's only gonna bring you down tonight...
- Gemini, "Blue"
* * *
Controlling my feelings for too long
Controlling my feelings for too long
And forcing my darkest soul to unfold
And forcing our darkest souls to unfold
And pushing us into self-destruction
And pushing us into self-destruction
And they make me
Make me dream your dreams
And they make me
Make me scream your screams...
- Muse, "Showbiz"
P A R T . E I G H T , . C H A P T E R . O N E :
D A R K E S T . S O U L S . U N F O L D
Seacliff - 2412.08.01.0701
Jesu LaRoca sat up and glared at his alarm clock for another half a minute before reaching over and shutting it up. Then he looked over to the other side of his bed, prepared to rouse his brother.
His brother wasn't there.
Jesu had gotten so used to Rusty sleeping in, it took him a minute to remember that this - Rusty being up out of bed before him - was normal. Jesu yawned and scratched at his stubbly beard and thought, Guess he's finally getting the sleep he needs. He got up and went to the head.
A shower and a trim later, he came downstairs wearing his civvies looking for coffee. "Morning, Spitz." The Ferasan was already up as well.
"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"
"Nope. But-"
"-That's what coffee's for, of course," Spitz-Reader finished with an amused flick of his tail. "What shall we do today?"
"Well, it's election day on Moab... the first real election day they've had. RTN should be covering that. It'll probably be a couple days before they get all the polling results but I want to track it anyway. See who's right about those guys - me or Okeg."
"And while you're yelling at the news, what should I do?"
"Um, make sure I stop yelling and don't miss my date with Mags..." LaRoca drank his first cup of coffee in one go. "I'd also like for you to look over my notes. You're good with psychology - hopefully you'll see patterns I'm missing. They're in my desktop - file heading's 'Timber Rattler.'"
"Is that supposed to mean something?" Reader asked as he started moving toward the Admiral's office.
"Yeah. Hey, where's Rusty?" Jesu wondered, abruptly changing subjects.
"I don't know," Reader answered, honestly.
"Maybe he's with Georgia..." Jesu noticed the Ferasan's body language. His whiskers drooped, his tail was still, his eyes and ears were in motion. "You know something you're not telling me," Jesu declared.
"Rusty is... not here. He left early this morning."
"Where?" Admiral LaRoca demanded.
"I don't know," Reader said again, as Jesu pushed past him into the office.
LaRoca tapped at his secure comm panel. "Hooper-"
"Good morning, Jesu."
"Do you know where my brother is?"
"Yes," the AI answered.
"Where?" Jesu demanded. "And why are you both being so damned evasive?"
"He's... on a mission. Something he feels he must do without involving you."
"He told me he was looking for his sign," Spitz-Reader spoke up.
Jesu gave Spitz a curious look. "Do you know what he meant by that?"
Reader slowly nodded. "I think I do."
Camano Shores, WA - 0822 hours
"Wow." Rusty removed the 'hat' and rubbed the contact points on his skull. "And Alice did that for fun? She's crazier than I thought."
"Sir?" Barrister looked up from his PADD.
"Uh, never mind."
"Well, I hope you're not planning on doing that again," Hooper spoke up. "This construct you've left me to train is quite a handful."
"Well, he should have all of my knowledge and experience, right?" Rusty asked the ceiling. "You just need to help him put it together."
"Easy for you to say. You had thirty-seven years to develop."
"Yeah, but to you that's like thirty-seven seconds, right? That 'subjective time' thing you talk about?" Rusty thought a moment. "How long will it take before you've got him ready?"
"I'm done. He's off into the net right now. But I have to tell you, that was an uncomfortably long time for me to be dressed as the Blue Fairy."
"Sorry." Rusty tried hard not to snicker.
Barrister blinked in confusion for a moment and asked, "What shall I do now, sir?"
Rusty looked around the room. "I don' think anyone will need to use this again, but... D'you think you can take all this apart in such away that nobody but you could figure out how to put it back together?"
"I can't rule out Hooper or another high-order AI, of course," Barrister replied, "but I believe I can make it so no organic could reassemble Dr. Okuda's work, with the exception of the doctor herself."
"Okay, do that," Rusty instructed. "And then you can go back to your shore leave, I guess... Say, Barrister, I don't think I've heard your stuff before. Do you have like a... demo record I could listen to?"
"You're making a big mistaaaake..." Hooper told him through his cochlear implant in a sing-song voice.
"I... do, yes. Um... I've been told my compositions are not exactly compatible with humanoid musical tastes..."
"That's okay. I ain't exactly humanoid." Rusty held out his personal pocket PADD - a Samsung Quasar like his brother's, but one model year newer.
Barrister synced the files from his device. "I'd be interested in hearing what you think. Perhaps I could find a market with your species."
"Heh. Gotta find 'em first." Rusty put his PADD away. "Thanks for your help, guys. Both of you. I owe you."
"Think nothing of it, sir," Barrister told him as he very efficiently dismantled the headpiece. "It was my pleasure to assist you and your brother with this project."
"Eh, I think I'll let you owe me," Hooper said. "Especially for that 'Blue Fairy' thing."
"See you later, Barrister. Um, lock the door when you leave, please."
"Understood."
Rusty went outside and pulled up his hoodie, and started walking toward the ferry to the mainland.
"Where will you go now?" Hooper asked him.
"I don't know." He had dealt with one nightmare. But he had others still to face. He checked his PADD. There was a list from Lt. Zetaz with four names on it. Two in San Francisco, one in Paris, one in Cardiff... Oezlel's still in France. "Paris," he decided. "Get me a flight to Paris." He sent Lt. Oezlel a message instructing her to meet him in front of the Capellan embassy.
He thought of his brother, and Georgia. They'd be awake by now, wondering where he was... Think of them later. You have a mission to complete. With great effort, he pushed them both from his mind.
And replaced them with something else; something primal and fearsome.
He hunkered down and started to run, with his claws out and teeth bared. His eyes were in constant motion, his nose and ears alert to every scent and sound as his hypersensitive senses kicked into overdrive.
It is time to Hunt.
'Cause you're lost in front of me
In truth
I'm losing you
'Cause you're lost in front of me
In truth
I'm losing you
And you know it's over
When you're gonna bring down
Take everything and live for the moment
It's only gonna bring you down tonight
When you're locked up in my blue
It's true
I love you
When you're locked up in my blue
It's true
I love you
And you know it's over
When you're gonna bring down
Take everything and live for the moment
It's only gonna bring you down
Bring you down
Bring you down
Bring you down
When I'm lost I'll come to you
So blue
I'm feeling you
When I'm lost I come to you
I'm blue
I feel you
And you know it's over
When you're gonna bring down
Take everything and live for the moment
It's only gonna bring you down
Bring you down
Bring you down
Bring you down
And you know it's over
When you're gonna bring down
Take everything and live for the moment
It's only gonna bring you down tonight
And you know it's over
When you're gonna bring down
Take everything and live for the moment
It's only gonna bring you down tonight
Gemini - "Blue"
Seacliff - 1203
Jesu came back in from a late-morning swim. The scant news from Moab was just enough to kick RTN's prognosticators into a self-sustaining cycle of speculation, which set LaRoca's blood to a low boil. Fortunately he had an ocean nearby to cool him off.
His back deck had stairs leading down to the beach and an outdoor shower so he wouldn't track salt and sand into the house. He toweled off and pulled on a T-shirt before going back inside. Somebody had turned the HV back on - deductive reasoning told him it must be Georgia.
He walked in and found a cooler set up in front of the entertainment center, and it was full of bottles.
"Drinking early?" Jesu asked, glancing at his watch to confirm that it was just after noon.
"Seemed lahk a good ahdea - either ah'll be ahead on celebratin', or too numb to be upset," She told him. "Either way, mah vote's in..."
"How did you vote?" Jesu asked.
"Absentee." Georgia offered him one of the bottles. "Beer?"
He hesitated, and she said, "Take it. Normally ah'd be all over punching up the other woman, but you're not a woman, and it ain't nothin' sexual, raght?"
Jesu realized she'd already been into the booze earlier today. "Georgia-"
"Take the damn beer. Ah'm not mad at you." She seemed mad though.
After a long moment of uncomfortable silence, she said. "Ah'm mad because he loves you more than he can ever love me - and there ain't diddly-squat ah can do to change it. But if things go lahk ah think they will..." She looked at the words and numbers on the holoviewer screen, "Ah'm not the person ya leave drinking alone."
Jesu finally took the bottle she held out to him, and sat down next to her. "What time is it over there?"
"Nha Tranh tahm's six hours behand us, acountin' for the extra day they work into Joolah to make the calendars lahn up. So nobody's even awake there, yet. But New Hidalgo County's up and votin'. Berun's World and Ahluna's capitals are lahned up with us."
Jesu opened the bottle. New Hidalgo County... mostly expats from Earth's Latin American regions, or people who'd resettled from Nuevo Castille. He'd assumed that... He wasn't expecting exit polls to show a seventy-two percent leaning toward Reconciliation.
Arluna was polling opposite numbers - twenty-something for Rec and most of the rest split between Good Government and Nationalist. Berun's World looked like it could go in any of nine different ways, so far.
"Where is Rusty anyways?" Georgia wondered. "Ah know he don't swim, but ah figgered he'd be... watchin' you, or sumthin."
"Rusty's... not here," Jesu told her. "He had to go somewhere this morning."
"Oh. When's he comin' back?"
"I don't know." Jesu took a long drink. His mouth suddenly felt very dry. "I think he's trying to figure things out. He does love you, very, very much. He told me last night, he... he doesn't want to lose you."
She slumped a little more. "Ah know... it's why ah haven't left," she said. "Ah love him, and he loves me - but ah'm second place," she told Jesu. "Ah'm not sure how to live with thet... or if ah can."
"I don't know what to tell you. And if I did... you shouldn't listen to any relationship advice I have." He gave her a solemn look. "Three days. That's how long the only really serious relationship I ever had lasted. But Rusty somehow made things work with you for over a year now. He's committed to you."
Georgia opened another bottle. "It's why ah stay," she told him, "and it's what's tearin' me apart. I'll deal." She gave him a smile that didn't reach her blue eyes. "You need to drink up, Adm'ral, y'all are fallin' behahnd..."
Five hours later
"Jesu, what the hell?"
Jesu looked up. Spitz was hovering over him, looking very displeased. "Huh?"
"You have a date with Admiral Rogachev downtown in an hour. And you're drunk."
"Am not!" Jesu sat up, a little too fast. The room spun a wee bit... "I only had... six? But over five hours-"
"For you, that's enough." Reader crossed the room and dug through his suitcase, and came up with a hypo. "You are, in the parlance of those who drink too much alcohol, a 'lightweight.' How much do you weigh?"
"I'm... what?"
Reader sighed through his nostrils. "I need to dose you with a drug to counteract the effects of alcohol, to sober you up enough that you do not embarrass yourself in front of the CSC. I have to be very precise when dosing this for Humans. So I need to know how much you weigh to the nearest kilogram."
"Um, eighty-eight," Jesu told him. "I've been trying to work off this gut, but-"
Reader dialed in the measure on his hypo and gave Jesu a shot in the neck.
He felt it working immediately. "Whoa. What is that stuff?"
"Nepata extract," Reader told him. "You will have a massive headache when you come down, but you'll be fine for the next six hours or so. Do not order wine with dinner." The Ferasan looked over Georgia, who was passed out at the other end of the couch. "Go get dressed. I'll look after her."
La Java, Paris - 0220 CET
"Do you have her?"
"No... there's too much noise." Lt. Oezlel shut her eyes and shook her head, trying to clear out some of the voices. After a long hunt, she and Cmdr. LaRoca had tracked the Capellan ambassador to this nightclub, but... "It's no use. I can't get a read on her in here. We'll have to wait until she leaves."
Rusty nodded and pulled up his hood. He hadn't packed his club jacket, and his street clothes weren't right for this place, but at least he could hide under his trenchcoat. Oezlel, on the other hand, with her pastel makeup and her old shiny Reman military uniform, actually blended in. She was able to get pretty close to Ambassador Ledarr, but not close enough to isolate her mind.
Rusty watched her from a corner by the bar, involuntarily bobbing along with the Latin-synthtronica fusion beat. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep the Hunter in check, but the vibes he got from the room told him that the night was just getting started. "We can't wait all night, Oz," he hissed into his comm. "We need to flush her into the open."
"What do you suggest? I could trip a fire alarm, but we may lose her if everyone leaves in a panic."
The crowd in front of the stage applauded as the band finished its set, and the house DJ took over, filling the space with classical dubstep. The crowd responded to the shifting tone - some sat down at their booths while others moved out to the dance floor. Rusty had a sudden thought that prompted a mischievous grin. "I've got an idea," he told Oezlel. "You may want to cover your ears."
He moved closer to the DJ booth, checking his PADD, until he was in near-field communications range of the sound system. Rusty's cybersecurity training worked both ways - he found he had no trouble slicing into off-the-shelf protections on the DJ's computers. From there, overriding the playlist was as simple as selecting which of Barrister's tracks the patrons of La Java would find most acoustically offensive.
Within seconds, he was assaulting the club and the surrounding neighborhood with harsh, discordant screeching tones, mixed with the sort of felt-not-heard rumbling usually associated with earthquakes. Rusty actually thought it was pretty good, even if the production quality was a bit amateurish. But then, the sounds did not stress the limits of his hearing range as they did for humanoids.
The poor DJ tapped futilely at his console while the dancers stood around, their expressions rapidly morphing from confusion to disgust. Some of the patrons were fairly inebriated, and they took longer to clear out, but within ten minutes the usually vibrant nightclub was almost completely deserted.
"Okay, I've followed her out into the street. Thanks for the warning, by the way."
Rusty slipped out between two visibly drunk Saurians and homed in on Oezlel. "Can you read her now?"
"Yes, I have isolated her mind..."
NOW?!? the Hunter demanded, as Rusty resisted the urge to shed his coat and move in for the kill.
"...It's not her."
Dammit! "Are you sure?"
"Fairly certain. I am able to project positive images to her with no telepathic feedback or backlash. If she is an Undine, then they are much better at hiding their minds than we ever suspected."
"Okay, let her go," Rusty veered across the street and walked half a block in the other direction before stopping and waiting for Oezlel to catch up.
"Where to now, Commander?"
Rusty showed her the list. "Vice Ambassador Tom Sloane, of New Wales Colony. His embassy's in Cardiff, old Wales."
Oezlel frowned. "Commander, assuming we do discover Zetaz's infiltrator, what then? I don't think I need to remind you that your protocol for confronting an Undine calls for at least three trained personnel. And that's only if two of those three are you and Reader-Commander."
I can take them, the Hunter told Rusty, closing his mind so that the Reman couldn't hear. I'm fast enough that they can't do more than throw me with their telekinesis. I can anticipate that, and use it to my advantage. After sparring with Alexei... I know I can take them. "For now, we'll just identify and observe," he told her, trying to ignore the Hunter.
"Understood, sir."
Rusty checked the time on his PADD, and started looking up rail schedules. "I'm avoiding the transporters because they're too easy to trace. It's about three hours to Cardiff by train."
"We should get moving, then."
Pyramid Club, San Francisco - 1806 hours PST
"...Real food, that costs real money," Jesu explained as he and Flt. Adm. Magda Rogachev stepped out of the turbolift - on the 50th floor of the 48-story skyscraper. "I wouldn't dare subject you to my cooking, and there're only a handful of other restaurants in the city that use real ingredients. And none of those are so... refined." He nodded to the maitre d'.
"Ah, Admiral Rogachev, Admiral LaRoca. How pleasant to have you dine with us. This way, please..."
They were seated in the middle of the west-facing windows. A waiter appeared and took their drink orders, and then they were alone behind the sound dampeners.
"Would it dissapoint you to know that you are not the first junior admiral to bring me here?" Magda Rogachev asked amusedly.
"A little," LaRoca admitted. "Who beat me to it?"
"Greg Sander introduced me to this place in '81. There've been a few others... Marcus Kane had the most interesting conversations..."
"I guess I'm in good company, then," LaRoca said good-naturedly, as their waiter rematerialized, followed by their drinks.
The Admiral gave a slight smirk. "We'll see," she said cryptically. "Do you know what the single common factor in all of those visits here was?" She folded her hands. "Every time, they wanted something."
LaRoca averted his eyes, looking to the waiter who was standing unobtrusively to the side. "What are the specials tonight?"
"Tonight we offer tonnarelli with urchin eggs, crispy veal sweetbreads filled with white truffle, thin-sliced Njeguka pruta on grilled local sourdough, shelter bay abalone and Langostino lobster curry, roasted Himalayan quail, and Numerian dolphin filet. And tonight we have appetizers of fresh fin whale onomi tataki or bluefin sashimi. And I believe the Finsch's duck foie gras is still available in a variety of preparations."
"And for dessert?" Magda asked.
"Tahitian vanilla ice cream with Amedel Proceleana chocolate, cassata with Irish cream and rippleberry-pomegranate compote, chilled Yubari melon, and of course our famous zabaione, made with Dom Perignon and flavored with espresso crema."
"I'll have the pruta," she said. "And tell Xavier in the kitchen that I'll want his fried white mushrooms with it."
"Very good, madame. And for sir?"
Jesu was looking over the regular dinner menu and doing a fairly good job of concealing his panic as he discovered that none of the haute cuisine offerings actually appealed to him. "Uh, the sashimi to start and... um..."
"He'll have the wagyu strip, with a baked potato, and butter-fried asparagus," Rogachev cut in, saving him.
Jesu didn't see steak on the menu anywhere but he added "Medium rare?" hopefully.
The waiter sniffed snobbishly, "Very well, madame, sir..." and derezzed.
"You're learning," Magda told Jesu. "It's about time. This is how we play the game in the big leagues..." she leaned forward. "For future reference, when you take someone from Procurement, or the Federation Council to this place, know the 'off screen' menu... Haute cuisine is fine for holovid stars, but not for our sort."
"I've, um, only been here once," he admitted, locking eyes with her reflection in the window. "For lunch."
"That explains it. The lunch menu is much more informal." Rogachev nodded absently and stirred some stevia into her iced tea. "And since we're being informal, I'll be using your first name, and you're going to answer me by mine."
"Ranks off?" Jesu asked.
She nodded. "What's going on, Jesu?" she asked. "Why are you hell-bent on getting beached or thrown out?"
He just stared at her, and she stared back at him. "I've half a mind to pull you into headquarters right now, if for no other reason than to get you off Quinn's radar, and out of the public eye... not quite like they did to Kirk, but you've been short a staff tour already."
"You know what I've been doing out there..." he started.
"Yes, and I can't imagine you not doing it," she said. "But I also know what you've been doing down here - the methods that worked out in the deep black don't work here."
"What do you mean?"
She sighed. "You're making enemies, and some of them are enemies I can't shield you from, and they have the power to destroy you, which I do not want. I've let you have your head for a long time, Jesu, but you've gotten it jammed in a game you have no idea how to play, with people who have no compunctions about using that naivete to annihilate you... and I can't help you, if I don't know what you're trying to do."
"I'm not playing a game," he said evenly. "I'm trying to... I'm trying to stop the Federation from getting stuck back in a quadrant-spanning war."
"You're not playing a game, but the people you're up against are," Magda told him. "Stalin said 'one death is a tragedy, a million is a statistic.' The people I'm talking about earn their power and position through war. They sleep soundly over statistics in the billions, and have the power to create those statistics with a word to the right ear, or by merely raising a hand in a meeting at the right moment."
"So I'm trying to find people who will ignore those words, or keep their hands down," Jesu said. "The Council vote next week-"
"But what you're looking for isn't that," she countered, "because thanks to ten years of warfare and contracts, ten years of expansion of security measures and attendant powers, you need to find people willing to speak against... and able to influence." She sipped her tea. "You need players, Jesu, not abstainers - the abstainers are outnumbered."
"I'm starting to realize that," Jesu muttered, as a non-holographic waiter brought out his sashimi. "The people I got to push the treaty with Moab... half of them have moved to the other camp, and the rest are in a very quiet minority."
She nodded. "You're learning, I knew you would... eventually. Unfortunately, you're up against something else - your own actions since you got back." She ticked off on her fingers, "The meetings with the Foreign Minister were a good start, but she's not got the pull her predecessor did, and she's regarded by most of the Council as a place-holder. You made an enemy when you met with Okeg - well, several enemies... and you're championing a lost cause, which increases your challenges ten thousand fold."
"What, you think I should have taken Okeg's offer?" LaRoca... not quite snarled, but he didn't ask the question politely either. "You think I should be leading the charge to pacify the Confederacy?"
"It would have gotten you into a position where your abilities and experience would have given you leverage you don't have here," she told him. "Council Politics is the wrong battlefield for the unprepared - and you ARE unprepared, Jesu." She sighed. "My fault, partly... but that is atmosphere out the airlock now. You need to pull back, and start organizing, and you need to learn how these people play their game; the rules, the ones to follow... and the ones to break." She regarded him calmly. "It will feel like your soul is dying. Trust me... but if you really want to stop this war, if you want to have anyone left to save, that's what you must do."
Jesu poked at his tuna. "I can't do that," he whispered. He looked up. "That would mean... if I don't fight this, now, that would mean forfeiting on a promise. And I can't do that."
"You have to decide, Jesu - the promise, or the lives," she told him. "Either way, you're a new player in their damned game, and you don't know the rules, and if you keep using the same tactics you ARE using, what they do to you..." she paused. "Sometimes, in battle, you make sacrifices. You're at a point where you have to choose between sacrificing yourself, or letting others burn... not your life, Jesu, your self, what the Klingons call your quv. You can try to keep a promise, or you can try to save millions of innocent strangers. That's the stakes in this game."
"I'm trying to do both," he told her. "There's still the Council vote, and the independence movement is gaining momentum. The Council is still beholden to the will of the voters-"
"The voice of the people is small, Jesu. A yammering crowd on a street corner do not put these people in office. Starfleet contracts and defense programs are what buy seats. You name me any member of the Starfleet Procurement Committee, and I will tell you if they were put there by Star Enterprises or by Kane Industries. I can tell you, not one of them was voted in by those kids you see on the news waving signs around and chanting." She gestured at his sashimi. "May I?"
He was frowning, but he nodded.
She stabbed at a piece of his raw fish with her fork, and dragged it through his wasabi and popped it in her mouth. Then she went on. "And the Foreign Affairs Committees are even worse, trust me. Without some conflict to resolve somewhere, those people are out of a job. I tell you, Jesu, without preparation, and without making that sacrifice, you'll lose."
She took another drink. "I was once in your position, facing this choice. It didn't get easier, but the few successes were worth it. Your best bet on influencing the council will require sacrificing your morals, your ethics, and your personal honor... The ones on the council who might be turned to your side, will demand things you will find indecent, unethical, abhorrent, even evil," she said quietly, "but they're more effective than hoping ideals can win against political advantage in things wildly unrelated to your cause."
LaRoca digested her words as their meals were brought out. "This... this system you're saying I have to fight... It's not about Moab for them, is it?"
"No, it's about issues that are older than you or me or the whole Federation. It is the dark side of democracy, Jesu. Even as long as I've been involved with Starfleet at this level, there are lines I can't cross - won't cross... that you'll have to cross, because of how deals have been made, and who's made them," she said. "I really, honestly, hope you don't cross those lines, Jesu. You're still a good man. Once you start playing at that level, you won't be - ever again... take it from someone who knows."
Jesu thought of the dirt list he'd compiled from the data dump, and realized that all he had was a handful of commercial-grade fertilizer to throw at people who shovel sh*t for a living. He knew Mags was right. Once you swim in that filth, it seeps into your pores, into the fabric of your being, and you can never wash yourself clean again. Papa Sander had told him that once... "So... what's the alternative?"
"Step back, bide your time," she said. "Save who you can on the side, and look for an opening - some way to turn the game over... but that will require you to learn how they play." She chewed one of her fried mushrooms. "Eat your steak Jesu, before it gets cold."
Controlling my feelings for too long
Controlling my feelings for too long
Controlling my feelings for too long
Controlling my feelings for too long
Forcing our darkest souls to unfold
And forcing our darkest souls to unfold
And pushing us into self-destruction
Pushing us into self-destruction
And they make me
Make me dream your dreams
And they make me
Make me scream your screams
Trying to please you for too long
Trying to please you for too long
In visions of greed you wallow
Visions of greed you wallow
Visions of greed you wallow
Visions of greed you wallow
And they make me
Make me dream your dreams
And they make me
Make me scream your screams
Controlling my feelings for too long
Controlling my feelings for too long
And forcing my darkest soul to unfold
And forcing our darkest souls to unfold
And pushing us into self-destruction
And pushing us into self-destruction!!
And they make me
Make me dream your dreams
And they make me
Make me scream your screams...
Matthew Bellamy of Muse - "Showbiz"
USS Nighthawk, 40 Eridani A shipyards - 1916 hours
"...You were due to report to Dee-Ess-Kilo-Seven four days ago, Captain." Rear Admiral David Charles Huntington glanced at the side of his monitor and corrected himself. "Four days, two hours, sixteen minutes."
M'karret shrugged. "Unavoidable maintenance delays, sir. Look at it this way - I'm not as late as I would be if the warp coils fell out alignment while we were slipstreaming..." He forwarded the data, which in this case was true. The thing about a hull as old as the Nighthawk, which was the third Sovereign-class built after the USS Sovereign and the Enterprise-E, is that if you looked hard enough you probably could find something to worry about. Pulling in here had been an excuse to buy time, but the yard apes had found something that they didn't have the means to detect themselves until it failed. The benefits of having much better diagnostic tools than could fit on the ships.
On the monitor, Huntington glanced at the sent data and nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Good call. I'd rather have you here late, than not getting here at all. How many did they replace?"
"Four on the starboard Nacelle, three port. She's always tended to run a bit unbalanced for the past fifteen years or so. Melissa Travis's crew had found a way to balance that out a few years back - but according to the yard chief, by then the damage was done."
The Admiral grunted. "Yeah, that kind of stuff can sit hidden for years before it fails." He'd served a long time on another old Sovvy, the Ark Royal, and was very familiar with the type's foibles. "What's the ETA on getting that wrapped up?"
The Caitian glanced at the desk terminal. "They're reinstalling the cooling ducting and will be ready for static tests in about an hour - those can run 12 hours or more. After that," he said, thinking, "we can do the mobile tests en route to Kay-Seven. There are other facilities along that route should they be needed, but most of the fine tuning can be done inside the ship."
He wasn't happy - but also couldn't argue with facts. "Very well, finish your repairs and get going ASAP. I'm not going to hold this against you - because at least you pulled in to have something that bothered you checked. I'm gonna be short the Billy D because they didn't listen to that nagging voice, and lost their main EPS array. They had to be towed in to Kilo-Seven and won't be leaving soon. Still, the sooner you get here, the better. Get your ship fixed, and get moving. Huntington out."
As the connection ended, M'Karret let his poker face drop. He still had a crew that, for a good number of them, did NOT want to take part in this 'mission', and one he himself wasn't sure was legal. Oh sure the courts had said it was - but JAG was divided, and his own instincts said it wasn't. He'd asked for clarification from home... hopefully there would be something he could use, to either find a way to refuse with honor... or convince him that this was the right path.
Seacliff - 2247 hours
When Jesu got home, he found the holoviewer turned off, and Reader relaxing in his recliner reading from a PADD and sipping at a bottle of mineral water through a straw. "Where's Georgia?" LaRoca asked.
"Georgia... apparently did not have as much beer as she thought she did," Reader deadpanned. "So she's gone to a bar to watch the news with Kelly Hu, Hamlin, and Sticks."
"Georgia can't drink at a bar," Jesu pointed out. "She's only nineteen."
Reader sucked on one of his teeth. "That's true. I must have neglected to mention that to her." He picked up his bottle. "I'm sure she'll figure it out."
Jesu went to his kitchen replicator and pressed Retrieve. Four bottles of Modelo appeared. He took one and hit Recycle and the others vanished into the pattern buffer.
"I wouldn't drink that if I were you," Reader said, glancing at a clock set in a ship's wheel hanging on Jesu's wall. "You remember that massive headache I warned you about? You'll be feeling it soon."
"I've been feeling it for a few hours already," Jesu told him. He popped the lid off and plopped down on his couch and turned on the HV. He took one look at the screen and said, "Dammit."
"Landing County didn't go our way," Spitz read. "Kelly told you, the reconstruction shifted the demographics there. More recent transplants, fewer first- and second-wave families..."
"I know. But I wasn't expecting Nationals to take that kind of a pasting. Looks like Cold Butte's holding..." he turned it off. "The sun's just coming up in An Loc. That'll be the difference, but I'm not staying up to watch it."
"How was dinner?"
"It was... good, but they have some really f*cked-up stuff on the menu over there," Jesu told him. "I'm wondering what Rusty had when he went there before... you know his theory of food is basically 'if it tastes good, it would taste better served on or with a cheeseburger.'"
"I meant how'd it go with Rogachev?"
I'll let you read it, Jesu told him, opening his mind and short-term memory.
Reader's thoughts were silent as he reviewed and analyzed the conversation with the Chief of Starfleet Command. When he was finished he said aloud. "She may be right, you know."
"She probably is," Jesu admitted. "I know she's right about one thing... well, two. First, I have no idea how their game is played."
"And the second?" Spitz-Reader read his friend's thoughts before he could figure out how to put them to words. "Sander..."
"Greg Sander... went before the Council in '83, and, well, some say he opened a lot of eyes that people had tried to hold shut since the end of the Dominion War. Basically, he ended the notion of a 'Peacetime Starfleet.' Since '83, the Council and especially the Procurement Committee have been in the mode of 'wish for peace, prepare for war.' Which is why we were able to mobilize and respond the Hobus event in '87. And why we were able to meet force with force when the Klingons invaded the Archanis sector in '05."
"But it took more than just standing before the Council and making a nice speech, didn't it?"
Jesu nodded. "Rusty and I stayed with him for... part of that year. Papa thought he'd be going back out, with a ship of his own, and he would have, if they hadn't..." Jesu stopped for a minute. "I was thirteen, fourteen years old. I didn't know all that was going on. I still don't. But I remember Papa Gregorio telling me something.
"He told me a story about a man who wanted his family to live in a shining city of lights and laughter, where everyone had everything they ever wanted, and no one was ever hurt or sick. But in order to live there, you had to go through this grueling application process and the line to get in lasted forever. Unless you were related to someone who already lived there. Well, the man knew he had no relatives living there and he worried that he would die before his family made it through the lines.
"Now, the city was surrounded by high walls and had guards watching the gate, so he knew there was no way for him to make it in... except by one way that his friend told him about. The sewer. Nobody watched the sewer. In order to keep the city so clean and healthy, it had to get rid of a lot of waste and garbage, and it all went out through the sewers. There was a whole city beneath the city, that handled the filth and trash and made the city above run the way it was supposed to. But nobody above knew or cared about the people down below, even though they were part of the same city. But the man thought if he could get in through the sewers, then he would be in, and his family could skip the lines and join him in the shining city.
"So one night he tucked his kids into bed, and kissed his wife, and told her to take the kids to city gate the next morning. And he went out the door, and walked to the outlet of the shining city's sewers. And he swam inside. He was in over his head in the most vile, disgusting, nightmarish filth you can imagine, and it was pushing him back out so he had to swim and swim with all of his strength... But he made it. He was inside.
"And he went up to the surface, found someplace to take a hot shower, and got new clothes. And when morning came he ran to the gates to see his family. But they couldn't see him. They looked right at him but they couldn't recognize him. The filth that he'd had to swim in had seeped into his pores and changed him. And so he watched the guards turn his family away.
"And then the people of the city noticed him. Even though he'd washed himself he still stank of the sewers. And no matter how hard he tried to get himself clean, he couldn't rid himself of the stink. And so they sent him below, and there he lived out his days, toiling in the sewers to keep the shining city bright and beautiful, knowing that his family could never, ever live there."
Spitz-Reader listened to the fable and pondered on its meaning. He also sensed, in his friend's mind, that Jesu was sitting on a box full of dark secrets. He only dared to pry a little. "And you think that's what happened to Admiral Sander? Why he disappeared?"
"Maybe." Jesu shrugged and drank his beer.
Reader watched the box get shoved back into the closet of Jesu's memories and get buried and lost in the disorganized mess he kept there. "What will you do now?"
"Now..." Jesu smiled wearily. "I wait for a sign."
Cardiff - 0933 hours GMT (0133 PST/Fed Standard)
"Thank you again for letting us conduct our inspection, Mrs. Keenan," Rusty said, as Oezlel led the way back out. "And I will be looking into why our office didn't notify you that we were coming."
"Not at all, Commander," the mousy-haired chief of Embassy security told him. "I am glad t' see that someone is taking these riots seriously. Good day t' you, Commander, Lieutenant."
"Ma'am."
Rusty sighed as he and Oezlel walked out of the gate. "Oh for two."
"Well, at least now we know that the infiltrator is one of the two Councilmembers," Oezlel pointed out.
"He's in San Francisco," Rusty realized, feeling a shiver of fear travel up his spine under his duty jacket. The Hunter retreated from his mind, replaced by a stronger instinct. "I need to get back there. Can you find your way back to Paris?"
The Reman Daywalker shrugged. This was not the tunnels of Crateris that she had been born to, and she found most of Earth's above-ground cities difficult to navigate, especially the older European ones. But she had a good memory, and she enjoyed exploring and finding her way around. "I'll manage, sir. And Hooper will help me if I get lost."
"Arright, lemme know how Zetaz and the others are doing. See ya." And with that he darted away, running toward the Queen Street train station, slowing only to pick his way through a knot of protesters who'd gathered around the two-block EarthSec cordon. He took a westbound train into Glamorgan to Starfleet Maintenance and Logistics Base St. Athan.
Once there he was able to run a security override on a transporter to beam him to the Treasure Island Auxiliary Station without it recording his trace. Treasure Island was the closest Starfleet installation to his brother's house without beaming straight into HQ or the Academy, where he'd be more likely to spotted and recognized. He ran along the bridge back to San Francisco to the Embarcadero BART station, and took a Munimetro airtrain to Ocean Beach. From there it was a short run to Jesu's place.
He slipped in through the back patio door at 0242 hours. Reader was asleep. Rusty silently made his way upstairs. He paused in front of Jesu's door, and looked at his own. He hesitated a moment before going to his own room to look in on Georgia. But he found it empty. He sniffed. She'd been gone for at least eight hours. He put down his bag and took off his uniform jacket, and went back to Jesu's room.
His brother was sleeping, but not well. Rusty stood in the doorway for a moment, watching his brother toss and turn. He closed the door behind him, removed the rest of his clothes and crawled into bed alongside Jesu just as he rolled over again.
Jesu woke up as he found himself pressed into the Deinon's chest. "Rusty?"
"I'm here, Zoo."
"Where'd you go?"
"I had to take care of some things. Oezlel and I narrowed down Zetaz's list..." he scooted closer. "I needed to make you safer. I'm sorry, Zoo. I'm sorry I left you."
Jesu shifted his shoulders and hugged his brother. "I'm okay. Georgia's pretty freaked out, though."
"Where is she?" Rusty wondered.
"Back at the hotel with Hamlin and Kelly. Did you find your sign?"
"Not yet."
"Damn." Jesu rolled onto his back.
"What's wrong?" Rusty asked, inching closer.
Jesu told him about his conversation with Rogachev. "So I have a choice to make: my way, Maggie's way, or Okeg's way. And I don't think my way's gonna work."
Rusty recalled the dream when he was told about the Crossroads. "Sacrifice, Separation, or Betrayal," he whispered. "Those are the options he said you would have to choose between."
"Why me?"
"He said it's because it's your choice." Rusty sighed through his nostrils and rested his head on Jesu's shoulder. "He also said the signs would be there for me to see, but I haven't seen 'em yet."
"I hope you see 'em soon, Rust," Jesu said as he stroked his brother's back. "I feel like I'm gonna get run over if I just wait here."
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
She doesn't strike me as being all that evil/loathsome.
Good call.
Not old enough. Naomi Taylor is Rowan Atkinson's mom.
I do like Arnold Vosloo, but I was thinking someone closer to a Sir Ben Kingsley.
I'll take her. :P
Terrible headshot but I do like her.
Mmm, not... um, big enough. And we wouldn't be able to see her face...
Liking that.
Good choice, except he's already been cast as The Director.
He'll do nicely.
Sure.
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
Have you seen her in Highlander? She was pretty loathsome in that, and tried to convince the village to burn Connor rather than banishing him
Bigger? Melissa McCarthy, perhaps?
Sean Penn?
And the other day, I forgot:
Heiki - Kylie Minogue?
It's been a long time since I watched Highlander... But anyway, she's too old. This Admiral Taylor-Smythe's second wife (not Aaron's mother) and I think she'd be in her early forties, tops.
Perfect.
Slimy. I like it.
Very nice.
So... fishing for comments here, any thoughts on the last couple of chapters? I know Rusty was getting into some kinda creepy territory. I hope that hasn't turned off the audience.
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
Comments...
The last few chapters have felt like slow-burners to me (with the exception of the Paris shenanigans) so more about setting the stage for the events to come, but some really nice details such as Jesu replicating four beers, taking one, then recycling the remainder, as that shows something beyond the 'single servings' which TNG etc tended to show. The events in Paris was definitely an action scene, and that action was flawless. Sadly, the characters involved, I'm not particularly invested in, so I didn't really care that it was happening to them. Had it been involving say Jesu and H'mL'n, Rusty and Barister, or Ssharki and Naja, then yes, I would have been absolutely riveted by it. That's not to say there's an issue with those characters, as mentioned, I'm just not personally invested in them (A bit like in the Oceans Series, I don't really care what happens to Scott Caan and Casey Affleck's characters, even though they are entertaining...) With regards Rusty and 'creepy territory'... I don't necessarily see any of it as 'creepy' per se. (I wrote Alix and Marcus' date at the Pyramid Club, 'unconventional relationships' don't bother me) I would however, say that (to me, at least) a Rice-esque homoerotic undertone is coming across, although I understand the reasoning for why, and consider that a perfectly legitimate plot aspect :cool: Something else I would note though, is that the dynamic between Jesu and Rusty has IMHO shifted from one of brothers (which was very clear in Road to Ruin) to Jesu giving off more of a 'master and pet' vibe. On another note, Magda's mention of Marcus was funny, as depending on the timing and the nature of the encounter, that could reveal that Marcus was cheating on Cameron or Siri, or, if it was in the period between 2387-2396, he would indeed have been a free agent, and Magda might simply have thought 'too many issues' (again, depending on why they were there, and if it was business or pleasure... He's not giving any answers at all
So overall, big *thumbs up* Also, if you could take a look at the notes on the Daze doc, there're a few observations I'd appreciate your perspective on :cool:
I'm sort of on the fence about Lt. Oezlel myself. I'm trying to upgrade her into a bigger supporting role but I'm not sure how she fits in.
I have to confess, I'm not 100% sure what goes on in bed with those two myself. That is, the character's aren't letting me 'see' anything. The biggest clue I got was in the last chapter, when Georgia says "It ain't nuthin' sexual, raght?" and Jesu doesn't answer.
I think that Jesu is a tiny bit creeped out himself, but not as creeped out as he thinks he probably should be. I'm very sure that Jesu, at least, wears pajama pants or at least boxers to bed. (I believe Rusty sleeps in the buff, though purely for comfort in his case.)
I don't imagine any sort of sexual contact when I write them together like that, but that level of intimacy is definitely there. I know Ennari, at least, finds it disturbing enough to regard Jesu as 'off limits.' I think Georgia was alright with it until she realized that she wasn't Rusty's first love.
Interesting. I'll have to watch for that. I know at least one recent scene, Jesu wrestling Rusty for his PADDs in 7.2, felt very brotherly, to me at least. But I think I know what you're referring to in the last couple of chapters. We will be seeing more flashbacks to the two of them growing up, which should establish more context for their current relationship. The intention was to show how Jesu sees Rusty in Rusty's more vulnerable moments, but it was supposed to show him as his baby brother, not as a "pet."
Well, she did say he "wanted something." Not saying what...
Thank you.
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
It'll become clear eventually :cool:
I think Jesu's non-reaction probably sums it up. Character motivations can be strange, and not immediately forthcoming... It took over a decade of writing for Marcus to admit his courtmartial after Alix's death, and it took me as long to realise that after his promotion to admiral, his duel with another immortal lead to him experiencing a Dark Quickening, which explained how his behaviour got progressively worse after Cameron's death (I'd always attributed it to her loss, but, given his emotional training, a Dark Quickening explains the personality shift much more accurately than mere grief) As before, I don't consider their interraction 'creepy', it simply is what it is, and completely justified from a biological imprinting perspective.
I think it comes across at times (at least to me) that Rusty needs Jesu emotionally, more than Jesu needs Rusty. Jesu needs a bodyguard, so he (I believe sub-consciously on his part) takes advantage of that.
Well, I already know Marcus can be evasive, if not outright dishonest, about his relationships, he craves female attention/approval (seeking to replace the mother-figure) and that leads him to make bad choices... Even without the Dark Quickening, to exagerate his negative tendencies, I think all he would have needed would have been the right woman and the right opportunity... I think we may have found the answer
No worries, and thanks, although you missed the note with the question about New Rhodesia (but to be fair, it is a way down the list...) ^_^
Don't
Tell me what's in
Tell me how to write
Don't tell me
How to win this
Fight
Isn't your life
It isn't your right
To take the only thing that's
Mine
Proven over time
It's over your head
Don't try to
Read between the
Lines
Are clearly defined
Never lose sight of something you believe in
(Takin' in the view from the outside
Feelin' like the underdog
Watchin' through the window, I'm on the outside
Livin' like the underdog)
I've been trying
To justify you
In the end
I will just
Defy you
To those who understand
I extend my hand
To the doubtful I demand:
"Take me as I am"
Not under your command
I know where I stand
I won't change to fit your plan
Take me as I am
As I am
Still
Running uphill
Swimming against the current
I wish I weren't so
F***ed
Feels like I'm stuck
Lost in a sea of mediocrity
Slow down
You're thinking too much
Where is your soul?
You cannot
Touch the way
I play
Or tell me what to say
You're in the way of all that I believe in
(Takin' in the view from the outside
Feeling like the underdog
Watching through the window, I'm on the outside
Living like the underdog)
I've been wasting my breath
On you
Open minds will descend
Upon you
To those who understand
I extend my hand
To the doubtful I demand:
"Take me as I am"
Not under your command
I know where I stand
I won't change to fit your plan
Take me as I am
To those who understand
I extend my hand
To the doubtful I demand:
"Take me as I am"
Not under your command
I know where I stand
I won't change to fit your plan
Take me as I am
As I am
Yeah
As I am...
John Petrucci of Dream Theater - "As I Am"
P A R T . E I G H T , . C H A P T E R . T W O :
A L L . T H A T . I . B E L I E V E . I N
Ready Room, USS Raging Tempest, Japori System - Stardate 89587.69 (2412.08.02.1211)
For once, this little corner of space was quiet. Perhaps the pirates had finally gotten the message that Starfleet would not tolerate raids against their Romulan allies. Or, more likely, they'd found easier, juicier pickings elsewhere. At any rate, Command had apparently decided that the Raging Tempest was needed elsewhere.
Capt. Takeshi Yamato looked at the new orders on his monitor - orders to report to Moab, and join the Peacekeeping Task Force under R. Adm. Huntington.
Last time we ran into Huntington, we were helping stop him from bringing the Masters here, he thought. Now we're expected to just work under his command like nothing happened? And what we're being ordered to do...
Beside him, Linda frowned. "We both know what's going on here," she said.
"Yeah, we do," Takeshi replied. "That said, I think we need to go - this'll be a good opportunity to TRIBBLE with whatever plans they have going."
Linda's smile quickly became a grin. "Pretend we're following orders, while being ready to throw a wrench into the works?" she asked. "I like the way you think."
"Thank you," Takeshi answered, before giving his wife a kiss. "Let's brief the crew - and we're going to need to make sure no one outside the ship knows what we're really up to ..."
Seacliff - same time
Jesu was swimming laps along the three hundred meter length of China Beach. He figured it was a good habit to establish. The water was as warm as it would get now in early August, and the stress of the last two months combined with a lot of sitting around on the ship had left him with about six extra kilos to work off.
He approached the end near his house and saw his brother standing on the beach and waving at him. He swam ashore through the gentle surf. "What's up, bro?"
"Reader's got Huntington on the line. And Huntington said to tell you, quote, 'Please don't blow me off again. This is important.'"
Jesu smirked. "Poor guy's been trying to get a hold of me for days, I suppose I'd better talk to him." He followed Rusty up the stairs, rinsed and toweled off, and put on a T-shirt from the Academy's '89 championship water polo team. In his office he found Spitz-Reader making a valiant effort to stall Dave Huntington.
"Here he is now," the silver-furred Ferasan announced with a touch of relief.
"Commodore," Jesu nodded at the viewer as he sat down. "How are things going?" He asked it without a trace of irony and without any acknowledgement of the three days he'd spent ducking him.
Huntington rubbed his forehead to cover the ugly look he wanted to give LaRoca. "Admiral, I know you're busy doing... whatever it is you do when you're not saving worlds from eldritch horrors, but I need to brief you in on current operations if you're going to be taking over the peacekeeping mission."
"Who said I'm doing that?" LaRoca asked him blankly.
Huntington blinked. "Quinn said Okeg wanted you to head up the mission instead of me."
"He does. But I'm not so sure I want to get involved." Jesu leaned forward. "You see, I already know a lot more about your 'current operations' than I think you want me to know."
"What do you mean?"
"Well for starters, I know about the SFI operation to tilt the Moab election towards Reconciliation, driving out pro-Nationalist businesses, providing work and TINs for new Rec voters, and more... 'direct persuasion' methods that my brother recognized from his time in MACO Delta."
"You..." Huntington bit his lip. "You're referring to the covert fact-finding mission..."
"I'm referring the TR-116b and the MACO Delta-issue phasers and shield generators recovered from the scene of the riots last month." LaRoca gave him a minute to chew on that. "And then there's the seventeen perfectly serviceable starships designated as scrap that are currently sitting in Surplus Depot Yankee-Six, which I don't have to tell you is a little over five and a half light years from the Moab System. How much you wanna bet the new Reconciliationist government is going to be 'acquiring' those ships?"
"Admiral, the situation is more complex then it appears from where you're sitting-"
"I'm sure it is," Jesu told him, "because from where I'm sitting it looks an awful lot like you and Quinn and someone at SFI have instigated a civil war and are arming the side you want to win, which would make you guilty of a lot of very serious crimes, the least of which would be violating the Prime Directive. Tell me it's not that simple."
"It- well, it's not," Huntington insisted. "First of all, I don't answer to SFI, and they don't answer to me, sir... so if you have evidence, you should be presenting it to the AG. Secondly the operational mandate for this mission is to keep the peace. And third, you know as well as I do that Starfleet equipment periodically appears on the black markets..."
"Not mk. XIV MACO-Delta gear," LaRoca intoned. "Not five-year-old Prometheus and Luna-class starships."
"I knew about the ships; they're intended as a sort of... political bribe, to lure the Confederates back to the Federation since the Klingons have effectively abandoned them in the wake of the Pentaxian mess... We were going to be delivering them regardless. The scrapping was, so I've been told, a formality, since the Federation doesn't yet have a formal agreement that would allow it under MAPS-Eta." Huntington's left eye twitched a bit as he said it, "Which was supposed to stabilize the sector... before everything went to sh*t down there."
"So what went wrong?" LaRoca asked him.
Huntington's posture slumped a bit. "I don't know... yet," he said. "If SFI was moving a separate operation out here, they didn't tell me - the teams on Moab, Cold Butte, Berun's World and Arluna were only supposed to be conducting fact finding and basic intelligence missions. If they were doing more than that, and using my task force - or yours - as cover, it's a problem somewhere between Quinn's office and the Puzzle Palace at Langley. Maybe they found something out? I don't know. What I do know, is those people are teetering on the edge of a bloodbath that will spill all over the sector and might reignite the war with the Klingons... and this task force is supposed to put a wet blanket on that fire before it spreads."
"How do you plan to do that?" LaRoca wanted to know. "Have you contacted the local leaders? Do you have anyone working toward a diplomatic solution?"
"I've been in contact with First Minister Mulvaney on a regular basis since last week, and I've been in touch with the new First Minister-elect's office as well. But Admiral, I'm a tactical commander, this needs a strategist and a diplomat... and that's you, not me," Huntington told him. "The major problem now, is that I..." Huntington turned as a subordinate officer appeared in the field of view of the camera.
"Really? you're sure?" and Jesu caught a glimpse of actual panic on the man's face, and more clearly, "Oh my god... are you sure... live??"
"What's going on over there?" Jesu demanded
Huntington looked at him. "First Minister Katherine Mulvaney has just been assassinated on live broadcast..." His face was blanched. "She was giving a... speech, a conciliation speech, talking about peace."
LaRoca's features morphed with horror. "What did you do?!?"
Huntington's expression was dismay, and for the first time, it felt like the man was actually being totally honest. "She was willing to work with us, she was helping to rein in the militants, the lunatics, make the transition smooth, she was going to help save lives and they murdered her for it." Huntington leaned close, "And I don't know if it was their maniacs, or ours."
He's not lying, Rusty told his brother through Reader. I believe him. He didn't do it.
I agree, Spitz-Reader added. He's as shocked by this as we are.
I think you're right. "Okay Dave, I'll let you go so you can figure this out, but I just have one last question," LaRoca held him. "Do you want me to take over? Because Okeg thinks I can shut this down, and I think he might be right. Do you want me to come down there and undo the mess you and Quinn made?"
"Yes, sir, Admiral. I do want you..." Huntington's expression was the most genuine Jesu had seen in this entire conversation. "We need you."
"Arright Dave. The briefing will have to wait, but next time you call me... I'll answer."
"Understood, Admiral, sir... Hopefully I'll have better information for you when we speak again. Huntington out."
Jesu leaned back in his chair as the viewer winked out. "Well, that was interesting."
"The entire Moab Confederacy just watched their leader get assassinated," the Deinon rasped. "Whoever was responsible, they just killed any chance at a peaceful resolution. 'Interesting' is hardly the word for it."
"Yes, but it's that 'whoever was responsible' part that's interesting," Reader told him. "Whoever it was, it wasn't Huntington. Which probably means Quinn wasn't involved either."
"How can I play this game if I don't even know how many players there are?" Jesu idly wondered. He looked to his brother. "Do you see a sign anywhere in this?"
"I don't know, Zoo." Rusty's forehead rippled as he relieved pressure in his skull. "I still don't know what I'm even supposed to look for."
Fairmont Hotel, San Francisco
"You should call him, and talk to him," Kelly advised. "You know he loves you."
"Donchu tell me how to live my life!" Georgia snapped. "If he loves me enough to leave his brother, he can find me." She saw the hurt look on Ensign Hu's face. "Ah'm sorry, Kelly. Ah didn't mean t' yell at ya..."
In the background, the news was playing on the HV, while they waited for Dinky to come back from the market. "...speech today when a gunman in the crowd opened fire, FNN has this footage,courtesy of RTN news..."
"What's that?" Kelly held up her hand, forestalling Georgia, and flicked the remote.
"This footage is unedited, and may be disturbing for some viewers," the anchor warned, before cutting to a view of a platform set up in Honor Park, in the heart of Nha Tranh. The outgoing First Minister gripped the podium as she spoke.
"...Nevertheless, the eyes of the Galaxy are on us all. Bulganov on Arluna may feel that the outcome is illegitimate, but that won't stop representatives from his world from taking their seats in the Assembly. Things are a bit more than tense on Berun's world, but their reps will still be reporting for work as soon as their transports arrive. Life will go on, we'll get over this period of conflict and chaos, we, together, will prove that we're not the rogue, holdback, barbarians that so many outside the Confederacy claim, but the strong, willing ally that so many outside the Confederacy have leaned on in the past... In some ways, my opponent is right: the Federation is not our enemy. The Klingons pointed this out when they signed the armistice; there is nothing wrong, fundamentally, with achieving good rela-" and then Mulvaney jerked back as a crimson stain spread from a hole in her blouse, and the too-familiar crack of a high-caliber rifle drowned out her dying word.
"GUN!" someone shouted, as the crowd erupted in a panic and scattered.
The last of the image showed medics, shaking their heads in despair while police spread out in confusion.
"Holy Jaysus f*ck," Georgia muttered. "Did that just happen?"
Kelly Hu whispered "Những người T
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
BTW, I also liked the crack about Japori at the beginning. It gave me a nice laugh!!
Christian Gaming Community Fleets--Faith, Fun, and Fellowship! See the website and PM for more. :-)
Proudly F2P. Signature image by gulberat. Avatar image by balsavor.deviantart.com.
I'm finally catching up to "current events" of the last few posts of "Come the Fall" and "Strictly Business." I also managed a tie-in to Academy Daze (special thanks to patrickngo for loaning Judah Lees.)
He's always been reasonable. He couldn't have gotten away with playing the CSO for the last 3+ years if he wasn't reasonable.
I do think he's grown rather fond of us Humans, seeing us (at least the Moabites) now as "Strong enough to Serve" rather than "the Weak will Perish." He is committed to the Masters goals, but his motivations and perceptions are evolving. It's something to keep an eye on.
Yes, and I do need to thank you for that extra layer of depth you introduced to his character by making him a veteran of the war against the Borg.
I'm glad somebody caught that!
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
(It's so fun to imagine our characters as alive, isn't it? Sometimes it sure feels like it.
And thanks again for the laugh about Japori!
Christian Gaming Community Fleets--Faith, Fun, and Fellowship! See the website and PM for more. :-)
Proudly F2P. Signature image by gulberat. Avatar image by balsavor.deviantart.com.
Imagine the memories he must have. Those Undine that Janeway's bioweapons melted were probably still in telepathic contact with their brethren.
Imagine feeling your friends and comrades as they are melted alive.
No wonder he's trying to destroy the Federation. :eek:
Heh, I had to go back and read it again to get the reference.
Infinite possibilities have implications that could not be completely understood if you turned this entire universe into a giant supercomputer.
This is my word, this is my way
Show me a sign, sweep me away
This is my word
Heartbreaker, gatekeeper
I'm feeling far away, I'm feeling right there
Deep in my heart, deep in my mind
Take me away, take me away
This is my word
Dream maker, life taker
Open up my mind...
- Imagine Dragons, "Smoke and Mirrors"
P A R T . N I N E , . C H A P T E R . O N E :
T H I S . I S . M Y . W O R D
Thirty-five Years Ago...
La Paz, BCS, Mexico - 2377.08.03.2147
Jesu LaRoca finished scrubbing at his little brother's fuzzy body. Despite his earlier attempt to clean him up, there had still been a lot of dried blood matting his downy coat. It sorta blended in with his skin though, and Jesu was surprised at the amount that was coming off now in the sonic shower. It seemed it was all gone now, at last.
"Okay, Rust, finish rinsing off, and then I'll dry you when you come out."
"'Kay, Zoo." The tiny Deinon waited until his eight-year-old brother had stepped out, then he extended his neck, arms and tail and shook like a little dog as the pulsed microdroplets rinsed the reddish suds from his body.
Jesu toweled off and pulled on his pajama pants, then reached into the shower to turn it off. Little Rusty still stood there, shaking, spattering drops of water on Jesu's feet and legs. Jesu grabbed a fresh towel and dried his arms, and then held it out for his baby brother. "Ready?"
Rusty looked up, and flashed his teeth in what Jesu knew was a smile. He leaped a meter off the floor into his brother's arms.
Jesu cradled the two-year-old Deinon to his chest as he dried him off, and he carried the bundle of towel and dinosaur into their bedroom to get Rusty dressed in his own pajamas.
Their father looked on from the bedroom door, waiting until the boys had settled in bed. He entered the room and sat on the edge of the mattress, and reached for Rusty's head. "How are you feeling, chico?"
"Oh-kay I guezz," the Deinon answered, with a voice not meant for any humanoid language.
"You wanna talk about what happened?" Carlos asked him softly. "¿Puede decirme lo que sentiste?"
"I dunno," Rusty replied. "When I shaw dat li'l ra- wra- uh."
"Rabbit," Jesu said for him gently, knowing his brother struggled to make a "b" sound.
"Wrappit," Rusty tried to repeat. "When I shaw it, I jus' had ta chaze it. An' when I caught it, I... I... dunno."
"¿Estabas hambriento?" Carlos asked. "Were you hungry?"
"N-no. I jus' had ta... I wanned it dead. I dunno why." Rusty looked into his papa's eyes. "It was alreadeh dead tho. I could fehl it. But I wanned to ta tear it up anehway... I dunno why," he said again, and buried his face in Jesu's armpit.
Carlos stroked the back of the Deinon's neck while Jesu held him closer to his ribs. "You were just following your instincts, chico."
"Wuz dat?" Rusty rolled his head out and asked. "Wuz 'inz-stenk' mehn?"
"It's when your body tells you to do something, but you don't know why. Sometimes it's even something you know you're not supposed to do, but your body makes you do it anyway. It's like... when I play catch with Jesu, and he ducks or turns away instead of keeping his eyes on the ball? ¿Sabes lo quiero?"
"Yeah..."
"There are good instincts, and there are bad instincts. The way you always want to be close to su hermano, that's a good instinct. But your instinct to hunt and kill... that's something you are born with, that you need to learn to control."
"Oh-kay..." Rusty said, not really understanding.
"We all sometimes want to do things that we know we're not supposed to, Rust," Jesu spoke up. "Like, remember that time I ate all that candy before dinner?"
Rusty laughed. "Yeah. An'... papa made ya et all your dinner anehway, an ya barfed?" he giggled at the memory.
"There are always consequences when we do things we shouldn't do," Carlos told him gently. "This time, you only got yourself a little messy. But if you hunt the wrong animal next time, you could get yourself in real trouble, maybe even get hurt."
Rusty stopped laughing, and stared up at his papa with unblinking eyes.
"I get urges like yours, Rusty," Carlos whispered. "And worse. But I control them. I don't let that side of me take over. That's what you need to do."
"I don' unnerztan'," Rusty said.
"When you chased the rabbit, it was like, there was someone else inside of you, taking over, right?"
Rusty nodded nervously. That was exactly what it felt like.
"That other person," Carlos went on, "we'll call him the Hunter - you can control him, keep him locked up inside you so he doesn't take over... unless you really need him to."
"Why wood I nehd him?" Rusty wondered.
"When you're older, you might need him to protect Jesu," Carlos explained. "Or if you join Starfleet, and do my job..." he trailed off. "But I don't want you to think about that now, chico. For now, just promise me you'll keep him under control."
"Wuz 'promiz' mehn again?"
"It's when you give someone your word that you'll do something for them, no matter what," Carlos explained. "Or you can promise not to do something - sometimes that's harder."
Carlos leaned closer. "The thing is though, Rusty, once you give someone your word, you can't take it back without breaking it. And if its broken, you can never give it to anyone else, because they'll see that it's broken, and they won't accept it. So if you make a promise, you have to keep it. Understand, chico?"
"I tink so..." Rusty looked up at his brother for affirmation and saw him nodding grimly. "Um. Mmm-but... what if I can't?" Rusty got the sentence out with great effort, not just because forming the letters was difficult. "Wut if I can't control da Hunter?"
"Then you shouldn't make the promise," Carlos answered. "But you can at least promise me you'll try. I mean really try. Not like when Jesu 'tries' to wash the dishes, or when you 'try' to pick up your things. I mean really try like you don't want to fail." Carlos leaned closer and looked in his adopted son's eyes. "Can you promise you'll try, chico?"
Rusty thought about it for a moment, and nodded. "Oh-kay, I'll try ta keep da Hunter under control. I... promiz."
Carlos smiled, and his eyes showed a touch of relief. "Oque, chico. Now where is that book we are reading?"
After reading two chapters of The House at Pooh Corner, Carlos said goodnight to his sons and turned out the light.
Jesu stretched out his legs over the sheets and let Rusty snuggle up and get comfy.
Rusty whispered, "Zoo?"
"Yeah, Rust?"
"Why wuz papa shcared?"
Jesu was taken aback for a moment. "Papa? Scared? C'mon, Rust. You know papa's not afraid of anything."
Rusty was silent for a moment. He knew his big brother was right, but... "He shmelled shcared."
Jesu lay silently for a minute, stroking Rusty's tail. He knew Rusty could tell how people around him were feeling by their scent, and he always seemed to be right. "Why do you think papa was scared?"
"I dunno. Daz why I axed ya, Zoo." Rusty thought about it some more. "I tink he wuz shcared o' da Hunter."
"Maybe..." Jesu rolled onto his side and shifted Rusty up so that he could see his brother face-to-face. "You remember when papa told you where you came from? And what other Deinons are like?"
"Yeah."
"Papa saw what your kind can do when they hunt, when they need to be soldiers." Jesu reached for his brother's foot, and fingered his curved, 3cm toe claw. "I think papa might've been afraid that the Hunter might make you try to hurt somebody."
"Oh..." Rusty shivered, and Jesu automatically pulled him closer. The Deinon appreciatively rubbed his snout on the Human's shoulder... "You don' shmell shcared, Zoo."
"I'm not. I know you'd never hurt someone on purpose unless they were trying to hurt me. And I know how careful you are with your claws. Besides," Jesu kissed the top of his brother's snout. "I love you. Every part of you; even the Hunter. I know I don't have to be afraid of what I love."
"Mmm-b-b-buh papa..."
"I think papa has to be a little scared of this, Rust. He has to be afraid of anything that can hurt you." He pulled Rusty's head back a little so he could look in his eyes. "Papa's right. This thing can hurt you if you don't control it."
"I'll try hard, Zoo," Rusty said. "I gafe my word I wood."
Present Day...
Seacliff, San Francisco, CA, North America - 2412.08.04.0137
Rusty woke up, feeling a cool breeze on the back of his head. He turned and looked at his door. It was closed, but he heard movement outside, and he smelled...
He looked at Georgia, curled tightly under the covers. He tucked his pillow against her to hold her in place as he silently slipped out of bed. He opened the door and looked up the hallway, catching Jesu at the top of the stairs.
"What's up, Zoo?" he whispered, gently closing his door behind him.
"Um... nuthin', Rust. I was just... checking on you guys. I didn't mean to wake you."
His brother was hiding something. Rusty could smell it on him. He approached Jesu's side. "What's wrong, Jesu?"
"Nuthin', I just..." Jesu gave up and sighed. "I can't sleep. I need to decide what to do about Moab, and... I can't." He looked into Rusty's glowing, green-gold eyes. "If you could read a sign for me, it would really help right now."
Rusty looked down at his feet. "I dunno, Zoo. I'm startin' to think that maybe these crazy dreams I'm having... are just that. Dreams."
"You told me what you saw while you were in stasis felt like more than that though."
"Hallucinations. And elements keep popping up again in my dreams. Meru, Drake, the Old Deinon... it's all the same hallucination."
"You told me the Old Deinon felt different," Jesu persisted.
"I dunno. I was lost, scared and confused then."
"And now?"
Rusty looked up. "Now it's... the same words, different feelings. I don't know how to explain it."
"You both need sleep," Reader said, coming up the stairs. "You are going to lose your minds if you don't turn them off for a while." He looked at the Human and the Deinon in turn. "At least try to sleep for my sake. You think loudly."
"Sorry, Spitz," Jesu mumbled.
Reader turned to the Deinon and whispered, "Rusty, perhaps the reason you can't see your signs is because you're wrapped up in something - or someone - and it's blinding you. Perhaps even leading you off your path."
"Georgia?"
"You need to talk to her, and tell her the truth. I've read her thoughts. She is not shielding them. She knows the truth, but she is denying it to herself. She needs to hear it from you."
"What truth is that?" Rusty asked.
"That you don't need anything from her. That what you need, you can get only from your brother. That you love her, and that you will always be there to fill her needs, but that you need nothing from her in return."
It took Rusty a moment to process that, and to consider how she would react. "That would... that would end us."
"Maybe," Reader acknowledged. "Maybe she will feel relieved, and accept the place you have in your heart for her. But I know she is not happy where she thinks she is now. Either way, it will be for the best."
"She... she needs time," Rusty insisted. "She needs me, right now, more than ever. Everything she's held onto from Moab is falling apart now."
"Time is something that none of us has," Spitz-Reader said softly. "Your brother is out of time. He is to go before the Council in less than thirty-six hours. He needs you to guide him, and you can't do that if Georgia is pulling your attentions away."
"Chingues," Rusty hissed. Some will fall away... He looked to his brother. "Zoo... I... I don' know if I can help you anymore."
"Reader's right," Jesu told him. "You need to sleep. Take your hypo."
Rusty sucked on his foreteeth. "Are you sure?"
Jesu nodded. "You need it."
"What about you? And don't say 'that's what coffee's for.'"
"I've got something else I can try. Something I promised Judah I'd try... I'll be alright."
Rusty shifted his feet uncertainly, and began to shiver. It was cold out here...
Jesu wrapped him up in a hug. "I'll be alright, Rust. I promise."
Reader nodded, turned and went back down the stairs.
Jesu released his brother after a moment and returned to his room.
Rusty stood there a moment longer, staring at Jesu's door, wondering what he was doing but not daring to intrude. Then the chill drove him back to his own room, where the climate control was set ten degrees above the ambient temperature. He stepped past the bed where Georgia still slept, and entered the bathroom. His hypo was there, on the top shelf of the cabinet behind the mirror over the sink.
He knew it wouldn't stop the dreams. But it would at least keep him under for the next six hours. He looked back at the chronometer, shrugged, and dialed in the dose. The familiar lukewarm feeling spread from the injection site as the narcotic blend permeated his system. He had just enough time to put the hypo away and crawl back into bed next to Georgia before he slipped into his subconscious...
"There's two ways it can go, kiddo."
Rusty is standing on a broken path, and the worst of all possible things is right in front of him. Drake Tran, sitting... no, nailed to a stump.
"What are you doing here?" the Deinon snarls.
"Ask yourself, Rusty LaRoca... why'd you bring me here? You already know the answer... but maybe you brought me, because you know what I did." Drake kind of slumps to the left. "Look at that happy bunch over there, for instance..."
In spite of himself, Rusty looks. The field beyond contains a cut-out view of a house, children are running to a kitchen, calling for their mother. A normal, happy family.
It takes him a moment to realize it is Georgia, sweeping one of them up in her arms, the child squealing with delight.
"Wait 'til yo' pappy comes home!" she admonishes, "He's gon' be home today, you'ns wash up now."
"Now, look down the other path," Drake croaks.
Rusty sees a woman, alone... aged, lonely, bereft of family and joy. He watches as she fills a sink in a house that - aside from the collections of neglected things - is the same as the one that hosted the family. He keeps watching her as she fills the sink, and picks up the knife.
"Notice what's missing, Rusty?" Drake Tran wheezes, "What isn't in either picture?"
"No," Rusty tells him.
"You. Neither place." Drake's head rolls to the left. "But in one, you let her go, and she got what she needed..." It rolls back to the right. "In the other, you held on too tight, didn't let her choose her wings, didn't let her sing her song... and she died alone because you still weren't there."
Drake brings his head forward to face him. "You won't be there for her, Rusty, no matter how much you want to. You need to decide, you need to do it soon... and you need to be willing to live with the consequences... and doing that, believe me, is a stone b*tch."
"Is this ALL?" Rusty demands.
"You ask yourself, you brought me here, brought me back..." Drake replies, "again. I'll tell you this - letting go is hard, and she might hate you for it a little bit, but she won't hate herself if you do it now." Drake slumps, "Elizabeth never really forgave me, neither did her mom... and they were right. But at least they didn't end up like... that." the dead man looks to the right.
Rusty looks at Georgia, slumped in the sink, the water overflowing and red.
Drake Tran looks up at him again. "So, you gotta make the hard call, Rusty. Do you really love her, or is she just convenient?"
This is my word
This is my way
Show me a sign
Sweep me away
This is my word
Heartbreaker
Gatekeeper
I'm feeling far away, I'm feeling right there
Deep in my heart
Deep in my mind
Take me away
Take me away
This is my word
Dream maker
Life taker
(Open up my mind!)
All I believe
Is it a dream
That comes crashing down on me?
All that I hope
Is it just smoke and mirrors?
(I wanna believe, oh)
But all that I hope
Is it just smoke and mirrors?
All that I've known
Buildings of stone
Fall to the ground
Without a sound
This is my word
Heartbreaker
Gatekeeper
I'm feeling far away, I'm feeling right there
I'm starting to cave
I'm losing my flame
I wanted your truth
But I wanted the pain
To disappear
Dream maker
Life taker
(Open up my mind!)
All I believe
Is it a dream
That comes crashing down on me?
All that I hope
Is it just smoke and mirrors?
(I wanna believe, oh)
But all that I hope
Is it just smoke and mirrors?
Believe...
(I wanna) believe...
All I believe
Is it a dream
That comes crashing down on me?
All that I hope
Is it just smoke and mirrors?
(I wanna believe, oh)
But all that I hope
Is it just smoke and mirrors?
...
Dan Reynolds, Wayne Sermon, Ben McKee and Daniel Platzman of Imagine Dragons - "Smoke and Mirrors"
Next Morning (Aug. 4th)
Jesu LaRoca woke up slowly, and glanced at the chronometer. 1053. He sat up in a panic, but relaxed when he remembered it was Saturday. As if that matters, he told himself, as his brain continued to wake up and he remembered all he had to do.
He washed and got dressed and went out to the hall. He saw Rusty's door was open, poked his head inside and found the room empty. He went downstairs and found Reader, but no one else. "Where're Rusty and Georgia?" he wondered.
"They went out an hour ago. You slept in," Spitz-Reader commented.
"Yeah."
"Good. You needed it."
Jesu went to the kitchen replicated a quadruple espresso and a bowl of cereal, and sat down where he could see the holoviewer. "Let's see what's making news today..."
The HV came on with FNN, Your Eye on the Galaxy: Secession Crisis!
"I'm your Host, Rhosa ch'Arleide. It's been less than forty-eight hours since a series of terrorist attacks occurred in the wake of the assassination of Moab Confederacy head of state Katherine Mulvaney. And it's been a horrifying few days." The Andorian newsreader turned as a window-screen popped up, displaying a shot of a crashed Danube-class Shuttle on the grounds of a modern-looking building that'd been pocked with plasma and explosive burns.
"According to official Federation sources, anti-independence groups filled with disenfranchised former child-soldiers, known as 'Discharge Kids,' attempted to seize the Governmental Executive Building in the city of Yellowknife, on the world of Cold Butte, after capturing several planetary militia armories. Starfleet sources deny Federation involvement in the attempted uprising, that left hundreds dead in the wake of ten hours of high-intensity fighting..." the floating image shifted. "Governor Debra MacAulliffe, one of the targets of the uprising, held a press-conference accusing the Federation of backing the rogue attack, and invoking something called 'Paragraph Twelve,' which we are told amounts to a declaration of a state of civil war."
"Oh, for sh*t's sake," Jesu muttered at his cheerios.
"With more on that, here's Def Slanek, our in-office expert on the region. Def?"
The scene on the HV changed to a comfortable office, and a Betazoid with sandy hair and dark skin smiling at the viewer. "Thanks Rhosa. The invocation of 'Paragraph Twelve' is indeed a formal declaration of a state of hostile occupation - and a declaration of civil war. The reference itself is to the charter constitution first used on Moab III during their period of isolation shortly after founding. People watching back home have to remember, that document was written shortly after the invention of warp-flight, by a colony group that had recent memories of the Third World War, the Holocaust Courts, and a much closer memory of the Eugenics Wars. The twelfth paragraph of the document specifies processes to maintain government and military forces in the event of a hostile takeover of the central government by either outside, or internal, forces.
"By invoking the twelfth paragraph, Governor MacAulliffe has declared that Moab III - and specifically the capital and government infrastructure local to that world - are under hostile foreign control, and therefore is not a legitimate government. She's effectively said that the nation is invaded and the government on Moab has to go."
"What does it mean? For the viewers at home?" Rhosa's voice asked.
"In short, once confirmed, it means that steps can be taken, including the use of MCDF Space Navy and Marine assets - which are specifically forbidden to be used in domestic matters under Paragraphs Two and Three of the Constitution - to remove the occupation government and restore what the document says is a 'legitimate' government in their place. It's rather vague and broad, and illegitimate invocation of Paragraph Twelve carries a death-penalty if it is not confirmed and supported by a majority of member worlds."
"Is it legitimate, according to your best knowledge?" Rhosa asked.
"No," Jesu grumbled, predicting FNN's spin-cycle response.
"I'm... not sure," Def said, and flashed a grin to the camera, revealing perfect teeth. "If the Governor's allegations prove to be correct, then it is. But... Starfleet and Colonial Enforcement have both denied Federation involvement in the attack on Cold Butte, and in similar attacks by radical militants on Berun's World... It seems to me the Governor may have placed her neck in the noose on this one..."
"We now go live to the hanging of Debra MacAulliffe," Jesu muttered.
The scene changed instead back to the FNN-Paris newsroom.
"Thanks Def, in other news, Holostar Jevienne' D'Salna gave audiences a brief accidental shot of what she'll be showing in her new one-woman Broadway show during an interview with Holostar Interstellar. The 'wardrobe malfunction' was viewed by over two billion sentients..."
Jesu growled and hit the selector. "Or we can bury the real news under Hollywood garbage again!"
The RTN logo for the local affiliate spun into place on the HV...
RTN - News On Time!
"...and we're back, for those viewers just tuning in, I'm Sarah Pratt here in the Holovee Twelve newsroom in San Jose, and we're carrying up-to-the-minute coverage of events halfway across the Galaxy... If you're looking for more on the D'Salna wardrobe malfunction, that's on the FNN affiliate, we're not covering that."
"I knew I liked you guys for a reason," Jesu said, leaning back and sipping his coffee.
A new graphic popped up: Marching to War?
"Starfleet has continued to transfer units of the Border and Earth Home Fleets, to the troubled former Federation colonies in the Moab Confederacy as part of President Okeg's announced 'peacekeeping plan', dubbed, obviously, 'Operation Peacemaker.' RTN sources have confirmed that Starfleet has already begun putting into action a support package for the recently elected government of Donald Odelaw on Moab III. Rumours were confirmed this morning that a number of vessels from the mothball facilities at SMC Surplus Depot Yankee-Six were retrofitted and will be supplied to the Odelaw government as part of a complex, scheduled plan to free Starfleet assets from anti-piracy patrol duties in the area.
"Sounds simple, doesn't it?" The young twenty-something woman on the screen asked her viewers. "Well, it's not. Those ships probably will not be involved in counter-piracy operations, because a majority of legislative representatives on two worlds of the four systems formally in the Moab Confederacy, and one major collection of orbital colonies, have joined Governor Debra MacAulliffe, the leader of the Confederacy's largest industrial world, in declaring the central government on Moab to be under hostile foreign occupation. Klingon experts have already confirmed the Empire's estimation that the Moabites are about to have a civil war to decide the matter. Janice Leo, our Sherman's Planet Affiliate bureau chief, has more."
The new face on the screen was mixed-race, and dressed in what Jesu knew to be the native fashion for the agrarian border world. She wore only light makeup to draw attention to her eyes, which shone with intelligence that was not common among holovision reporters. "Hey Sarah. Well, it's pretty confusing out here, Starfleet officials have refused several Freedom of Information Act requests from news agencies along the border, but not so much can be said about the folks on Arluna and Cold Butte. RTN correspondents have been granted free access to prisoners captured in the recent fighting on Cold Butte in particular, with our cameras on and not so much as a frisking before we met them, and, combined with equipment captured and placed on display by the MacAulliffe government, it paints a picture of a Starfleet Intelligence mission gone wrong."
A holocam panned a collection of weapons on a table, and somebody - Jesu thought it sounded like the same ex-MACO they had analyzing Mulvaney's shooting - was describing what they saw.
"...This is a TR-116B-model special purpose rifle, the direct descendent of the Dominion-War era TR-116 rifles used by MACO Delta units. The B-mod was just approved for purchase by the Starfleet Materiel Command last year, and is only produced in limited numbers by Barrett Firearms Manufacturing in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, on Earth. As you can see..." The camera panned along the table, "there are quite a few of these here on Cold Butte, a world that went independent before the rifle was adopted, which supports the claims of several men we interviewed that they were, in fact, deployed here by Starfleet Intelligence, under orders."
"I wonder why FNN didn't mention that," Jesu grumbled sarcastically.
Janice Leo was back on the screen. "...As of right now, Starfleet officials have refused to comment, even when specific names were submitted, and information requests on personnel records have likewise been met with outright refusals. In the case of one name dropped by multiple prisoners, those refusals were accompanied by a cease-and-desist order citing the Emergency Powers Act of 2407."
"Which name was that?" Sarah's voice asks.
"Alleged Starfleet Captain Edward Stebbins, who is still currently at-large after the failed takeover attempt on Cold Butte, Sarah... He's likely to be looking for a means of escape from the planet, since he is not only wanted by the government and facing a stack of charges including possible espionage charges, but also has several private bounties totalling into the millions of bars for his capture and delivery, with only a small discount for his dead body."
"Dead or alive then?" Sarah asked.
"Yes, Sarah. The price on his head is for the direct, personal murder of one of his followers, and the near murder of another - and is being offered by a private concern and held in escrow by the firm of 'Justice incorporated', a private security company located on Cold Butte."
Spitz-Reader, who had already read the news reports and was trying to tune out the talking heads and the Admiral's responses, suddenly looked up at a stray thought. "Do you really think your father would try to collect?"
"If I thought of it, you can bet he has," Jesu replied. "I sure as hell wouldn't bet against him taking this Stebbins down."
"...What about the summary executions?" the newsreader went on. "In her announcement, our viewers saw quite a few bodies hanging behind the Governor."
"Those have, thankfully, stopped," Janice answered, "as well as the drum-head courtmartials that preceded them. This was after the Denali ambassador voiced concerns about the treatment of prisoners taken in the wake of the coup attempt. The press, and international observers, now have an open invitation from Governor MacAulliffe to look in on the surviving prisoners, interview them, and monitor their treatment per the Antares Articles of 2356."
"Have any official neutrals accepted the invitation?" Sarah's voice asked. "Seems like it could be risky..."
"Yes, Romulan Republic observers, KDF officers, and representatives from several Federation worlds have been granted access to the compounds and jail facilities, as well as Denali Diplomatic Corps investigators. The Interstellar Red Cross and DWBI have also sent medical teams, to treat those injured in the attack as well as the prisoners. It seems the only people who haven't, so far, at least applied to look in on the prisoners, are Starfleet and Federation officials..."
"Abso-f*cking-lutely ridiculous." Jesu got up and muted the viewer. "Those pendejos here are giving us all un mal nombre. Spitz!"
"Yessir?"
"Ring up Hibiki. Somebody has to set the record straight, and I'm pretty sure this lands under her job description."
Foreign Minister's Residence, Paris - 2032 local
"I'm sorry, Admiral, but I can't make a statement at this time," Ryoko said to Jesu over the comm as she was busily changing from her office suit into something more comfortable, while making sure to keep out of visual line from the monitor to keep him from seeing more than he should.
"Why the hell not?" LaRoca demanded from the viewer.
"Given the Supreme Court ruling that we're still trying to repeal, the events at Moab would be classified as an internal affair. If I made a statement without hard facts, I could be seen as butting in where I don't belong, and that could be catastrophic for us." And Kyoko had really hammered that point home for her when she'd first seen the reports.
"Have you been watching RTN lately? Starfleet is butting in where it doesn't belong, whether it's meddling in internal security on a member world, or in the electoral process of a foreign power... What more do you need?"
"I need facts - as close to the source as possible," Ryoko replied icily, as she straightened her top and finally approached her viewer. "I know better than to trust the newsies, Admiral. Even if they're as unbiased as RTN claims to be, they are in the business of selling sensationalism. There's a good chance they might miss something important."
"You want the source? Then call up Admiral Chakotay at Starfleet Intelligence, tell him to put you in a conference call with Vice Admiral Tanya Adams, his Deputy Director of Operations, and ask them- no, demand that they give you an account of what f*cked-up vision of a black op they are trying to run in the Confederacy."
"I tried that, Admiral," Ryoko informed with a measure of aggravation. "But I got the impression from their answers that they were as in the dark about this as we are. I think either someone went around them, or this was an unauthorized op."
"Chingues, Ryoko..." Jesu pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "You're the Foreign Minister. Starfleet is supposed to be working for you. Figure this out, and give me some ******ned support here. If you can't reign these guys in, or at least figure out who they are and officially disavow them, WE are going to be the ones looking at a civil war. Do you understand that?"
"I understand all too well, Jesu..." Ryoko said with a sigh of her own. "I'll see if I can't get anything from Erde - he may be an information broker, but remember, he has sources of his own, in addition to what he buys from people. He might be our best shot at determining the full picture."
Jesu grunted. "I got a funny vibe from that guy when I talked to him... Give it a shot, but I think you'll have better luck if you go over to Langley Station and start firing people off the top until you get to the payaso who's sending these goons."
"I know how to do my job, Admiral," Ryoko replied coldly, remembering how he'd left her outside the Palais de la Concorde. "I'll let you know how it goes. Hibiki out."
The channel closed, giving Ryoko a few minutes of silence as she organized her thoughts. Then she keyed in the comm code and password for the secure connection to Tieria Erde.
As Tieria's image appeared on the screen, Ryoko had to admit the weird vibe wasn't entirely in Jesu's head. With the purple hair, glowing eyes, and the digital sea of ones and zeroes in the background, part of her wondered if Tieria was some rogue AI, only not quite as destructive as the likes of M5.
"Minister Hibiki," Tieria said, a neutral expression on his face. "This is an unexpected pleasure for you to be calling me. What can I do for you?"
"I need information from you on the Cold Butte situation," Ryoko replied. "I need to know just what went down there - every last detail, no gaps."
"Interesting... You are asking me what happened, which means you do not support the official story the Federation government wants everyone to believe, nor do you quite believe the unofficial sources making their rounds on some alternative news channels... What do you believe, Ryoko?"
Her eyes narrowed. "I believe you're holding information I need, Tieria."
"Mmm. You know, that data dump has changed much of the nature of my business, and the release of quantum entanglement communications technology has helped ensure that change is a permanent shift... I find myself called upon to provide confirmation of things that are basically public knowledge. You're not asking for that."
"I want hard facts, Tieria," Ryoko told him. "Confirmation will come if you can provide me with the source."
Tieria's eyes seemed to sparkle for a moment. "You are asking for a lot, you realize. And so I must ask for an equal measure in return."
"Name your price."
"Certain files that were not leaked, files that your office can access. Specifically, I will require the communications codes for all of your diplomatic channels; the channels you'd use to advise your ambassadors of a declaration of war."
Ryoko blanched slightly. That was... that was important security data. "Wh-why would you want that?" she asked.
"Because it is information that you have, which I do not," Erde answered as if it were self-evident. "And I have information that you do not have, and cannot get by other means, or you would not be asking me for it. Clearly, an equitable exchange is necessary."
Ryoko sighed. This was not the kind of decision she could make on a whim. "I'll need to think about it," she replied. "I'll get back to you with my answer as soon as I can."
"Of course you will. You can sense the emerging patterns of force even with your limited view. Just do not wait until the forces overwhelm you. Good night, Ryoko."
Ryoko sighed as the monitor went blank again. Back when she'd first considered going for the Foreign Minister position, it was because she felt she could do better at the job than Martin Cave. She'd certainly proven herself in that regard, but then again, anyone could have done better than Cave, so that wasn't really saying much. Now, though...
She felt a hand placed on her shoulder, and looked up to see Kyoko standing there, also in more casual clothing. "I heard what Tieria said," Kyoko said. "I know you want to know more about what happened at Cold Butte, but compromising comms integrity to get that information isn't a good answer."
Ryoko sighed. "I... I know..." she said. "I... I might not have a choice, though, depending on how things start going..."
"Even if you had the information confirming RTN's reports, you couldn't use it in any meaningful way. What is happening in the Confederacy now will continue, regardless of anything you or LaRoca may say."
"You... you might be right," Ryoko replied, before she sighed again. "Kyoko... I... I keep finding myself in moments where I wonder if I bit off more than I could chew when I took this job..."
Kyoko smiled. "That's why I'm here, Ryoko," she said. "I'll support you through thick and thin, and help with whatever you need." She enfolded Ryoko in an embrace. "And while I was originally simply assigned to be your secretary, it's not just duty keeping me here - I love you, Ryoko, and will stand by you no matter what happens."
Ryoko smiled gratefully as she returned the embrace. "Thank you, Kyoko..." she whispered, before their lips met.
Seacliff - five minutes earlier
"I don't think she knows what the f*ck she's doing," Jesu told Rudyard. He'd rolled his chair over to the big round tank, and let his arm hang in the whirlpool current, gently stroking the shark as he swam by.
"Do you know how to do her job?" Reader asked. "Do you understand Paris politics, or the sort of pressures that are placed upon her position?"
"She's a career politician," Jesu argued, straightening up and shaking water from his arm. "I expect she knows that side of things. It's the Foreign Ministry part - administering the Federation's foreign affairs - I do know how to do that and I don't think she does."
"Right, because you got along so well with the Cardassians," Reader said sarcastically.
"Cardassian Cardassians I get along with just fine, I'll have you know," Jesu snapped at his chief of staff. "You weren't around two years ago when Nellie and I were helping them solve problems. It's the Starfleet Cardassians that throw me for a loop." His face twitched, thinking of the Avandar and who he felt was responsible for her loss with all hands. "But that's another rant."
"You're angry, Jesu. You need to do something constructive with your anger."
"What the f*ck kinda bullsh*t counselor advice is that- are you kidding me? I can never tell with you."
"I never 'kid,'" Reader told him. "Being angry with Hibiki or ch'Harrell will do nothing for you except alienating those who you should be depending on as allies."
"I guess you're right." Jesu tapped at the comm panel again. "If I'm gonna yell at someone, better make it someone who deserves it."
"Who are you calling now?" Reader asked somewhat trepidatiously.
"Figure Quinn deserves it more than anyone else I can think of."
"I don't think this is a good idea," the Ferasan intoned, but the call was already going through, and Jesu was wearing his 'game face.'
"Admiral LaRoca, good to hear from you!" Quinn smiled at him. "Have you decided to lead the mission?"
"You can't possibly be serious," Jesu told him. "Are you trying to trigger a civil war, you-" Reader intercepted his thoughts before he finished that with shapeshifting sack of sh*t.
"The Moab situation can be recovered if you step in and-"
"I'm not talking about Moab!" Jesu growled. "I'm talking about right here. The Federation. Earth. I watch the news, Quinn. The real news. You tried to kill the Governor of Cold Butte and then swept it under the rug-"
"We didn't do that!" Quinn stood up and shouted. "That was not a sanctioned Starfleet operation!"
"Well, RTN's showing uniforms and weapons that say it was," Jesu crossed his arms. "I don't care if you were in the loop or not. But you got SFI to kick off this whole mess and now it looks like they're calling the shots. Now you want me to break my word, to fight our own people to make this all stop..."
"I never wanted this," Quinn protested.
"Well, it's happening. And I'm not gonna put my name on an operation that defies every principle I swore to uphold."
Quinn sighed heavily. "Admiral... I could make it an order, and you'll resign, and there's no coming back from that. I could wait for things to get so bad you change your mind... and I'm not sure that will work... but..." Quinn sat down again, and leaned forward. "Here's the dilemma for you think about - Those principles you think you're honoring - they're about protecting life, nurturing it, and what's happening there, now, it doesn't matter anymore who's at fault. Starfleet can put this mess down in thirty days, and we've got authorization to do that very thing... and I don't want to use it," Quinn said. "But... I will, if you don't give me the option not to."
The old Trill straightened. "Please don't make me do what I'll have to do if you refuse it again." And he cut the connection.
Jesu was silent for a long minute. "Okay, you were right," he said finally. "That wasn't such a good idea."
"It seems to me that you've just added to your problems," Reader said softly.
"The problem is..." Jesu ran his hand through his beard as he thought things through. "Somebody at Langley, who apparently isn't answering to Hibiki or Quinn... Somebody who's either an irresponsible, incompetent moron who's bound and determined to get us back in a war with the Klingons..."
"...Or someone who wants us all to look like that," Reader finished. "I'm not sure which scares me more."
"The second, definitely," Jesu licked his lips. "Hacksaw's scenario. If someone wanted to make the entirety of Starfleet and the Fed Council out to look criminally incompetent, to give them an excuse to take over..."
"The current situation would certainly fit that end," Spitz-Reader agreed.
"I can't fix this, Spitz. I'm being pulled right into the middle of it, and I can't do a damn thing about it."
"Perhaps that is why..." Reader trailed off.
Why what? Jesu wanted to know.
Why Rusty can't find his Sign. I think he's looking for an answer to your problem. What if there is no answer?
"Every problem has a solution, Spitz," Jesu said aloud.
"But are you part of the equation, or are you a variable that needs to be factored out?"
Jesu couldn't answer that.
All I believe
Is it a dream
That comes crashing down on me?
All that I hope
Is it just smoke and mirrors?
I wanna believe, but all that I hope
Is it just smoke and mirrors?
* * * to be continued... * * *
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
-- I like Ryoko's bit, I think she's a lot calmer and less biased than Jesu.
-- Jesu's basically watching Fox now, isn't he? Well, between Fox and CNN...ugh, never mind, I'd have turned off the holo.
-- Rusty is nice, and I hope that he and Georgia work out OK. They make a cute couple.
-- Nice to see this panicked, "oh SH*T!" side of Quinndine. I wonder if that will make Jesu reevaluate his opinions.
Our biases are grown from our experiences, and Jesu has experienced a lot more of life than Ryoko has. And right now Jesu is watching the service he loves (Starfleet) do horrible things to the people he loves. (Moab.) So yeah, he's bound to get a bit worked up.
I try not to draw direct analogs to real-world sources (well, except for that one time.) FNN is a Federation mouthpiece news organization, basically they sell "all the news the government wants you to hear." RTN is fully independent, but they have their own biases, being owned and run by the profit-minded Jake Evans. (Who I would compare more to Richard Branson than Rupert Murdoch.)
Stay tuned. Georgia's in love with that "nice" side of Rusty, but his personality is much more complicated than either of them really knows.
I think right now Quinn is somewhere between "That's not the Plan!" and "Damn, wish I'd though of that a year ago..." I will tell you though that once Jesu's got his mind made up about something, he's not likely to change it.
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
Which fits- Branson is kind of who I based him on. RTN tries not to spin anything-just reports the truth as they find it, good or bad. I don't think Jake's gonna let his network go down the spinmastery tree if he can help it. Of course he has other problems presently occupying his mind.
"he's as dangerous as a ferret with a chainsaw."
I agree that Jesu is imploding...and I have to admit, part of me almost wants to see it. What interests me as a writer/reader is seeing exactly what hitting bottom looks like and how it affects the character moving forward: whether he will continue to death spiral with increasing stubbornness, playing even more to type, or whether he could instead take any number of other trajectories. The impact that any of these directions have on others around him is IMO likely to be interesting.
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That fits. Certainly better than "angry rich turtle with a serious attitude problem", which is Murdoch. Definitely a better person than Murdoch, too. Uh-huh.
They're conveniently neglecting the fact that the Moab Confederacy, at this point, is basically Sudan before South Sudan's independence vote (and the border regions now). Most would agree that an outside intervention and takeover would be a GOOD thing there.
I can't buy that. Everybody puts their spin on the news/the world/whatever whenever they talk about it. For example, I'm EXTREMELY intolerant of sexual assault and cults (for personal reasons), and I know it, and I'm not able or willing to stop that from showing in my writing.
Anyway. RTN is basically the pro-Confederacy camp (to switch metaphors, they're the pro-Israel camp, or Fox), and FNN is...CNN. Just with a substantial dose of government mouthpiece.
I'd have shut the damn holo off and gone to my intel sources to find out what was REALLY going on.
BTW, I'm keeping my fingers crossed for you-know-who, hoping she pulls through without complications.
...A revelation in the light of day
You can choose what stays and what fades away
And I'd do anything to make you stay
No light, no light
Tell me what you want me to say...
- Florence + the Machine, "No Light, No Light"
Can you stay for a while?
Try to imagine this
Could you be for a while?
'Cause I can't remember it
Could you fall for a while?
'Cause I can't escape from this...
- Jars of Clay, "Portrait of an Apology"
P A R T . N I N E , . C H A P T E R . T W O :
W H A T . S T A Y S . A N D . W H A T . F A D E S . A W A Y
Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, CA, Earth - 2412.08.04.1228
"This looks like a good spot!" Georgia announced.
Rusty came up the hill, which overlooked Spreckels Lake. "Yeah, this'll do." He spread out the blanket he was carrying and helped Georgia unpack their picnic basket.
The sun was shining today. It wasn't what either of them would call 'warm' but it was at least comfortable, at 24 degrees. Rusty stretched his legs out in front of him and his tail out behind him, and dug into his meal of real food that he and Georgia had scoured from shops and delis all over the Richmond district. As he ate he watched ducks and seagulls argue over who the lake belonged to, watched some kids playing soccer over on the polo field, watched the cars and bikes on JFK drive... he watched everything but his girlfriend.
"Watchoo thinkin' 'bout, Rust?" She asked, after watching his eyes avoid hers for the last few minutes.
"Nuthin', baby."
"Okay..." she could read him better than that. He had the look like he had when he was holding something back from her. "Then what aren't ya thinkin' about?"
"I dunno. It's..." Rusty hesitated. "I know it's something we hafta talk about, but I'm afraid of what it would mean for us."
Georgia reached for his foot. "Rusty, if we love each other as much as we say we do, then nuthin' we can say should change that, raght?"
"I guess..." Rusty ate another bite of his food. "It's about the future, Georgia. What that looks like, for us. I want to stay with you, but..."
"...But your brother's pulling you away," Georgia figured.
The Deinon shook his head. "That's not it at all. Jesu wants us to be together. He wants us both to be happy. But... I'm not sure if I can give you the kind of happiness you need."
"You do make me happy though," she told him, crawling forward and into his lap. "Ah've never felt so happy as when ah'm with you."
"But how long does that last?" Rusty wondered. "I mean, what happens when you decide you want to settle down, away from Starfleet, and raise a family? You know I can't give you kids-"
"Ah don't want kids," Georgia told him. "Ah carry a genetic disease, remember?"
"Yeah, but Maria's fixed that, and she could take care of your children before they're ever born."
Georgia huffed through her nostrils like Rusty did when he was agitated. "Ah don't wanna think about that now."
"I'm not talking about now," Rusty told her softly. "I'm talking about when we're older, like, forty or fifty years from now. And beyond then."
"Hunh," she half-laughed, half-snorted. "Ya know, I never thought I'd have to worry 'bout livin' that long."
"Well, you will. There's no reason you couldn't live another hundred years."
She looked up at her lover. "And you? How long do you live?"
"I dunno," he answered. "I grew up fast. I haven't grown more than a few centimeters since I was ten. And I think I was like... fully matured at around fifteen or sixteen..." He shrugged. "Jesu thinks Deinons live like Klingons do - mature quickly, then live for a hundred and fifty years or more. But maybe we're more like Caitians, and only live for sixty or seventy years. Or maybe less. I dunno. I don't have any way of knowing."
Georgia had to ponder that for a while. When she and Rusty first started their relationship, she had a picture in her head of her growing 'old' and dying in his arms - of Rusty gently and mercifully putting her down before the Syndrome could take its toll. The idea that she could outlive him had never entered her mind. "Is that why you think you won't be there for me?" she asked him.
"I... I dunno," he sighed. "But last night I had this really awful dream..."
Somewhere outside of London, 2229 hours local
"How the HELL could this have happened!? You said that the rabble wouldn't be able to oppose your forces!" The woman at the head of the table raged. The movement had risked much with this, and lost. Not only had the Nationalist riff-raff had managed to thwart their attempted neutralization of the secession movements, but despite what Councilman Grahm had assured them, both the Denali freaks and the Klingons were involved as well.
For his part, he didn't even have the common decency to look embarrassed as she fumed. "It's merely a minor setback, Lady Taylor-Smythe," Percival Grahm replied smoothly. "The mutant troops at Cold Butte were just a local garrison from the Joint Forces Base that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Our people on Kronos assure me that the Klingons will not get involved. And there is just no way for any more of the long-eared fuzzy freaks from Denali showing up before we're ready for phase two."
"You said they couldn't interfere with phase one!" She tried to calm herself. Outbursts like this were, after all, unbecoming for a lady of her status. She held her breath for a moment, then made a dignified sniff of disdain. "We will need assurances if we are going to continue to grow the Movement among these wayward colonies. How do you know they will not interfere?"
"Time, speed, distance. Even if they got people moving after the election day fiasco, there's no way they can have anyone there before late november at the earliest," Grahm told her. "While they probably do have the new slipstream drives like everyone else, we don't believe they have the trained personnel needed for their ships." He just smiled reassuringly. "It's not even a minor setback. While it would have been optimum if we had captured Cold Butte... our polling data was flawed. Better to concentrate our resources where the people will be receptive to our message."
She nodded, shuddering a bit inwardly at the Councilman's smile. While he wasn't as... well, ugly as her husband, he was absolutely terrible in bed. The things I do for the Organization... she sighed to herself, as she forced herself to flirt with him. "While I wish we had time for more... private discussions, I really must be returning before I am missed."
"Just remember, we risk much because the rewards are so great," he said, continuing to smile patronizingly. "Soon, the Federation will be remade in our image."
Sooner than you think, she thought as she smiled back.
Seacliff - 1756 hours
"I just got off the comm with Rusty," Jesu announced, coming in from the patio. "He and Georgia are at Scoma's, still talkin' through stuff, so it's just you and me for dinner again, Spitz. Whaddaya want?"
Reader looked up from his PADD. "Meat. Recently killed, not replicated, not cooked through and tasteless."
"We've got a reservation at the Pyramid Club for tomorrow. What'll hold you over 'til then?"
The Ferasan considered. "Rusty talks about this burger place in La Paz as if it were hallowed ground..."
"Bandidos? Bit of a walk, but that sounds good." Jesu got up and grabbed his jacket.
Reader's ears perked and he stared at the door for a moment. "We have company. General Travis has some interesting news to share with you."
Jesu went to the front door and opened it to find Missy Travis about to press the door chime, out of uniform in shorts and a light blue blouse. "Good evening, General. What brings you down here?"
"Was it your security system or Spitz?" she replied with a smirk. "I was trying to keep low profile as possible, this isn't an official visit. Well, it is, but not 'officially official,' if that makes sense - my government knows I'm here but yours doesn't."
"There's a lot my government doesn't seem to know... come inside."
She didn't look happy as she followed him in, nodding at Reader. "There's a lot they do know, and won't admit. They can't afford to admit it - because if they did..." She shook her head, shuddering. "The civil war in Moab might not be the only one you need to worry about. We've got confirmation of the situation on Cold Butte. RTN has the right idea - but they don't know half of it. Figure it's only a day or two before they find out all of what really went down."
"All of what?"
"That it came within about ninety seconds of six million people dying in nuclear fire." She handed Jesu an encrypted PADD. "Report, of Major Nohar Bachchan of the SDF and Colonel Korrd of the KDF. Came over the QT an hour ago - homeworld is already aware and we should have their response in an hour or two. The weapon was local - from the planetary militia, and a lot of the grunts in the attempted coup were local - but the ones running the show... were all Starfleet."
"Six million..." Jesu found the specs on the weapon the SDF had recovered. It was a "dirty" nuke - a plutonium fission/hydrogen fusion device like Earth nations had developed during the latter half of the 20th century. It was part of a stockpile salvaged from some ancient orbital minefield and intended to be some sort of last-ditch 'scorched earth' deterrent to a Fek'Ihri invasion. It had a variable blast yield; the minimum was sixty-three kilotons - not much, but bigger than it needed to be to level Cold Butte's capital and largest city. The maximum yield - which the device had been set at, was fourteen megatons. "Why would... why would anyone want to do that?"
"According to the few survivors of that part of the raid - the SDF and KDF troops weren't in a prisoner-taking mood, but they got some. Anyway... if the mission failed, they were to get all their people clear, destroy the city and any evidence of their involvement, and pin it on the Nationalists."
"But that's stupid," Jesu insisted. "Why would Nationalists try to blow up their own capital? It just doesn't make any sense."
She shrugged. "The whole Cold Butte attack to be honest seems like it was done... well, less skillfully than the manipulation on Moab itself. They may have not thought they'd fail, believed their own intel... then had to improvise fast. Seen it before with some 'black ops' types." She stood up and looked out the window for a moment, admiring the view before turning back. "That's not the most damning part, though. In the appendix, is the list of the prisoners caught after some civvie ship did a hypersonic shockwave pass over Yellowknife - stopped the fighting long enough for them to beam the survivors of the attack on the Capitol into their brig. Civvie ship isn't listed, but I have an idea who it might be..."
Jesu and Reader glanced at each other and shared a thought. Someone wanted the attackers to be caught.
"Anyway..." Missy went on, "my XO ran the names through the BUPERS database, he's got a friend of a cousin of an uncle who's in personnel..." she highlighted a name on the PADD and handed it back to him. Jessica Clark, Lt. Cmdr, Starfleet MACO. Current duty station: classified; previous duty stations: USS Tiburon - Jan 2410-Nov 2410; USS Akula - Dec 2409; USS Mako - June 2409-Dec 2409 USS Snaggletooth - Aug 2408-June 2409. "There's a couple more on the list who used to work for you; this one was on the Nighthawk back in '09, all MACOs who got special ops offers."
"Chingame," Jesu muttered. Jessie Clark had been with him for a long time - at Brea III, H'atoria and Defera - and she ran a lot of missions for him after he established ConOps. She was one of a handful of Starfleet officers who Jesu would have trusted with his life.
"Yeah, my sentiments exactly. Dituri saved my life twice when we were jumped by the Tal Shiar..never in a million years would I have thought he'd end up in something like this. Pinned several decorations and a promotion on him myself before he got transferred off."
Jesu shook off his shock. "So what happens now? What are your people going to do about this?"
"What's my government going to do?" she shrugged. "I don't know, but I can guess. I'll get orders to head to Cold Butte as soon as they make up their mind, to keep our word to support them. I know the ex-ISS Stadi is currently streaming from Firebase Zulu with reinforcements for the base there - not sure what they renamed it to. I... I hate to say this, but even after all that happened last year... I still trusted Starfleet enough to come back, sort of. Quinn blowing us off, though-"
"What do you mean?"
"The diplomatic docks are less than five hundred meters from his office. I've been trying to see him since we arrived - each time, I get as far as his secretary. Quinn's always been level with me, and I trusted him... and I would have thought he'd be above this. But I tried again before coming here - and he's still 'not available'." She sighed, leaning forward on the couch, her head in her hands. She didn't notice that Jesu looked not at all surprised.
"It's all falling apart. But I did get this much from home: they believe - and I agree with them - Moab's enemies are going to try to destroy you, and everything you've worked for. Dr. Kaur said to tell you - that you or any of your people are welcome on Denali, and you will be given asylum if asked."
"Hmph, I think Rusty and I would handle one of your winters about as well as you'd handle a summer in Baja..." LaRoca almost smiled. Then he turned gravely serious. "If things get that bad, I'll make sure my people know the offer's there. But I won't duck and run, Missy."
"I know - we had to try though, and I told them you'd say that." She smiled a bit sadly, and looked like she was going to say something else-
Don't, Reader's thoughts appeared in her mind. He has enough on his plate now.
I know, and I wasn't going to, she thought. Even if I did... it would never work anyway. But at least I know now what I do want in someone when the urge to settle down hits. Take care of him, will you?
Of course, the Ferasan replied, seeming to smile to himself.
Missy shook her head and glanced at the clock. "I've got to get back to the Vikrant; I should be getting an answer from home any time now. Take care of yourself, okay?" With that, she signaled her ship, and disappeared in a transporter beam.
Reader handed the Admiral his jacket. "So. Dinner?"
"Yeah..." Jesu pulled on his coat and stepped outside, and they started walking familiar streets, lost in thought.
Look what I've done
This picture I've painted
It looks like my heart
Or what still remains
Convinced of the weight
Your interpretations
Are not what I see
I wish they could be
But I
Remember it
Much redder
And I
Remember it
Much brighter
(Could you stay for a while?)
Try to imagine this
(Could you be for a while?)
And I can't remember this
(Could you fall for a while?)
'Cause I can't escape from this
Try to explain
The way that the frame
Doesn't quite fit the image
Or surround the edge
It stands on display
And what do you see?
Behold, all the new gray
What's become of the old me?
'Cause I
Remember it
Much redder
And I
Remember it
Much brighter
(Can you stay for a while?)
Try to imagine this
(Could you be for a while?)
'Cause I can't remember it
(Could you fall for a while?)
'Cause I can't escape from this
(Can you stay for a while?)
Falling
Crying
(For a while)
Saying
What I am not really
(For a while)
Failing
Falling
(For a while)
Into this cage
And I can't escape
(For a while)
No, I can't escape
(For a while...)
No I can't
So look what I've done
The picture I've painted
Doesn't quite fit
Or surround the edge
But I
Remember it
Much
Redder...
Try to imagine this
(Could you be for a while?)
'Cause I can't remember it
(Could you fall for a while?)
And I can't escape from this
(Can you stay for a while?)
'Cause I can't escape
(Could you be for a while?
For a while
For a while
For a while)
I can't, I can't escape
Can you stay?
(For a while)
Could you be?
(For a while)
Could you fall for a while?
I can't
I can't escape
Can you stay?
(For a while)
Could you be?
(For a while)
Could you fall for a while?
Can you be?
Could you stay?
Dan Haseltine, Stephen Mason, Matt Odmark and Charlie Lowell of Jars of Clay - "Portrait of an Apology"
Thirty-two years ago...
Escuela Cat
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon