Badmiral and the Gang

Posted on 13 Aug 2023 @ 6:09am by Lieutenant Commander Maurice Rubens & Lieutenant JG Rhiannon Hokir & Brek - Timeless Treasures Art Gallery

Mission: M4 - Falling Out
Location: Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco, Earth
Timeline: MD1: 1045 HR
1581 words - 3.2 OF Standard Post Measure

As a girl, she’d been taught how to make tea by her grandmother. She adhered to the formula all these years later: loose leaf, not replicated. Water just passed boiling. Steep the tea in the teapot, not in the cup. After pouring the liquid into the tea cup (never a mug), add a teaspoon of milk and stir.

Vice-Admiral Brigid Harshman clinked the silver spoon on the rim of her floral china cup, shaking any remaining liquid back into the light brown pool inside. She was half-swiveled in her black leather desk chair, left arm finishing the tea on her desk, while she stared out the window into the churning waters of San Francisco Bay. There was a storm brewing in the Pacific, ready to crash ashore. She’d never understood why the Earth Weather Authority didn’t just do away with storms. They always claimed that storms were necessary for a properly balanced ecosystem. The fools even let wildfires erupt in the wilderness. Something about trees 'needing it.'

They were lucky she wasn’t in charge.

She rotated fully back to her desk, her back to the window and facing her well-appointed office. Everything ordered and in place in the gray-walled room with it’s shiny glass-and-black furniture: a shiny black side table with numerous holophotos of her in certain times in her career, her proudest moments in the largest frames: newly-minted Captain Harshman in the command chair of the USS Outagamie, her with certain leaders on the Federation Council, her and Starfleet’s steely-haired Commander-and-Chief, and her receiving her promotion to Vice-Admiral.

“Alright,” she finally said to one of the two officers sitting on the other side of her desk. She hadn’t offered either her long-time aide Commander T’Sheng or their guest anything to drink. Some might call it impolite, but this was her office. “Mr. Van Der Laar, I can’t say I much care to have an intelligence officer posing as a member of my staff, but your commanding officer was quite clear that whatever business you're up to its success is paramount to Federation security.”

The urge to simply slouch back in the chair and watch this woman’s sensibilities tie themselves in knots was held in check by the barest of threads. Instead, Lieutenant Commander Sebastian Van Der Laar - Oly to those he tended to befriend - sat upright, dress uniform pressed and displaying what credentials the fleet had deemed to grant him. “Aye, Ma’am. Captain Sharpton wishes to extend his sincere gratitude in your assistance in this matter. The possibility of getting an officer on the station at this point in time without notice is thin at best; the past two attempts resulted in covers blown before they’d been on deck the better part of a day. My coming in as an aide of a different stripe under your patronage at least gives me the freedom of movement without having to constantly maintain a cover that can blow any second.”

“I expect you to play the role of my aide in truth, not just in fiction. I will not be made a fool of during our time on Obsidian Command by having it appear that you are lazy. You’ll report to Commander T’Sheng when your other duties allow. Commander, is that acceptable?”

“Perfectly so, Vice Admiral Harshman,” T’Sheng said. She glanced at the intelligence officer for a whole second. She couldn't understand either why the Federation had sent such a person - an intruder really - to work with them. “Mr. Van Der Laar, my door is always open,” she added, wanting to send two messages: that she was in the habit of seeing and hearing everything, and that when she met people, it was always on her territory.

“Of course, Ma’am.” Oly smile genially.

“Good. Now, thoughts on these Korinn?”

T’Sheng’s eyes, dark and unforgiving, lingered a little while on those pictures that the Admiral had placed in her office. She disagreed with such an ostentatious display. It was too bold for her liking, but she nonetheless admired Harshman’s career path. There was so much prestige and correctness in those images. Whenever she focused too much on them, she felt that odd illogical emotion: envy.

A few more seconds passed before the Vulcan diplomat spoke again. She didn’t like to discuss her opinions in the presence of a third party, and as far as she was concerned, the intel officer was an unknown factor. On the other hand, she was aware of all the dangers of silence. “The Korinn refugees should receive all our attention. We have a duty towards them, now that they are on Obsidian Command. We should also listen to their needs. But this might prove complicated, since they have such a distinctive language. Due to this, a few things might get lost in translation, if we are not careful.” Although this, she knew, could also be an advantage. Battles could be won over certain misunderstandings...

“Of course. We should help these two refugees and we should do our best. As far as their little mission, it is asinine to think that Federation would become involved in their squabble. We’re stretched too thin as it is. What do you think, Mr. Van Der Laar?”

Pursing his lips in a semblance of thought, Oly considered whether the old harpy realized she was posing herself as the very antithesis of her projected reputation. “As you rightly stated, my forte isn’t Diplomacy here.” Though, if he were a betting man, he’d say he came a strong 2nd in that category. Harshman was a fraud with too much bling; T’Sheng … the jury was still out on her. “That said, my own experience is to listen long and hard; these Korinn may not measure up to the caliber of a Starfleet embassy, but they are the best representative of the species we have at hand, and language barriers aside, the crew on Obsidian Command has shown we can at least communicate with them to a degree, so there is promise of learning some what to aid in the situation.”

“As long as that aid, in whatever form it takes, doesn’t necessitate military intervention. What about this Gordon Stillwell the Department of the Exterior is sending as their ambassador, Commander? He has a glowing reputation within the diplomatic community, for what that’s worth. He’s been out of the game for a while.” Brigid let the rhetorical question flitter around the air for a second. “Starfleet sends their top diplomats and they send us the retired diplomat, part-time journalist. He’s bringing a Grazite, though. That can only be good for us.”

“It will be interesting to see what stance Ambassador Stillwell will take.” T’Sheng said, impassible as ever. “I believe they have resurrected him because of his vast experience. He is also someone who likes adventures, and we can only hope that he won’t try to turn this mission into a media circus, to help him achieve his goal. He is, after all, what is known as a celebrity.” The word was said with a touch of disdain. “This could harm our objectives. As for the Grazerite, a cultural envoy called Ernesh-Ibrin, I suspect he will be quite harmless, since his main interest is in poetry and history. I can see him being overwhelmed by this brand new marine species. The main danger will come from the Korrin themselves.” She glanced at Van Der Laar. “I have no doubt that we will learn a lot from them, and this will be a fascinating journey. But I fear they might not appreciate why it is important for the Fleet to remain pragmatic. They will have to be...” She made a pause, which she found to be strategic. “... educated. What will be the first item on our calendar, Admiral Harshman?”

“Obsidian Command’s chief diplomatic officer is arranging the calendar, unfortunately. Maurice Rubens.” Brigid clicked her tongue in annoyance. “I have had issues with him in the past. Luckily, regulations give me wide latitude with staffing a diplomatic function. Whatever he comes up with sideline it and him as soon as we’re onboard, Commander. Plan a meeting with Ambassador Stillwell and his staff first thing and then you can develop our timeline accordingly.”

“CDO Maurice Rubens,” T’Sheng repeated slowly. “I’ll keep an attentive eye on him.” She would also make sure to run a thorough check on his credentials and profile. Anyone who was hostile to Admiral Harshman, she automatically disliked.

“Good. Now,” she checked the time on her terminal, “I have a meeting with the C-and-C in a few minutes. Anything else?”

“I have no more questions, and will get on with my tasks,” T’Sheng said, ready to get up and leave.

Oly couldn’t help shooting T’Sheng a hard gaze as he heard himself replying, “None from me, Admiral.” If he didn’t know better, the woman was baiting him. It could be as simple as sharing Harshman’s own disdain, but he wasn’t one to just take the easiest road between A & B.

The Admiral’s slightly narrowed eyes met Oly’s eyes for a heartbeat. She didn’t like wild cards and he was a big one. Nothing to it though: she’d do anything to protect the Federation. “Very well. Dismissed.”