I Have Killed Better People Than you

Posted on Jul 04, 2014 @ 3:33pm by Captain Tim Layne & Ambassador Xana Bonviva
Edited on on Jul 04, 2014 @ 3:42pm

Mission: The Tangled Webs We Weave
Location: Various

I have killed people better than you”



=^=

Scene: Paris, France - Secretary Bonviva’s Suite

TI: this all takes place after Edgerton's promotion but before the kidnappings

SD: [2.14] 0618.1937

"We're playing for the middle," John Hiram explained to the staff. "A quarter of the Admirals are loyal -- think Admiral Ranta. So long as Bonviva keeps them happy -- and she will -- we're fine." Pacing around he said, "Now that means statistically speaking, a quarter of the Admirals are not our side. Lost cause, let them go. Good news is that leaves half undecided. That's who we're playing for."

"Do we know who is on the Undecideds?" one of the interns asked.

John smothered a smile; he had a soft spot for the interns. Bonviva's original Chief of Staff had plucked him from a classroom on the GATEWAY, groomed him, made sure his nose was clean, belly full, and more importantly filled his eager mind thus set his course in life.

"This is not a pickup game of basketball," John chastised. Charmed, yes, but he was Chief of Staff; he had to damn well act like it. "We're talking about the future of the Federation." Pausing he let that sink in before saying, "This is Paris; there are no secrets here. Of course we know who are undecided." Passing out PADDs he said, "Here are your assignments. Find out what you can about them, I want to know more about their likes and dislikes than their mothers and lovers do.” He saw some of the trepidation in their faces and in the faces of the rest of the staff so he said, “Remember, we wear the white hats.”

They took their assignments and once he answered the lingering questions, he ducked into the Secretary’s office and took a seat by the window.

“We wear the white hats?” she asked as she looked at her assignments. “When we talked about this game plan of yours you mentioned being inspired by your predecessor. And I’d guess you didn’t get that line from your him.”

To be fair there had been a fair number of people who had filled the role of Chief of Staff for Xana Bonviva; however when John and Xana talked about the position there was only one other person besides John they talked about. “Actually it was,” John replied as the Parisian sun warmed his back.

Xana’s face fell into an uncharacteristic display of surprise. “Really? That doesn’t sound like him. He was always so much more...gray.”

“That a bad thing?” John asked.

“No. It’s needed really. Most days are gray, John. I long for the gray days. There are very few days that are black and white, and those days always come with body counts. So I long for the gray days because it means I’m not calling someone to tell them that “I’m so sorry but on behalf of the Federation your loved one have gone missing or died”. Gray might be complex but simplicity isn’t always easy,” Xana said. There was a long pause that stretched out in the room while both of them thought back to the GATEWAY and to a half Slavic man who always sunglasses. “He understood that, which is why I was surprised to hear he said that.”

John said nothing; he couldn’t explain it but he wondered what his boss would say if he explained that on some level he thought his predecessor was an idealistic man, or used to be. She wouldn’t believe him, so John didn’t say anything. Instead he turned to the task at hand. “Any questions?”

Xana shook her head. John’s plan was solid, and it was very much like he outlined to the staff. Play for the ½ of the Admirals who were by their calculations up for grabs. The staff would be doing the data gathering, and possibly talking up the lower level officers and Xana would be making the actual pitches to the Admirals.

“Only how quickly how can you get...Admiral Felicity Branch on the line?” Xana asked as she read the top name on her list.

“I would, but we have an issue,” John told her. Passing her another PADD he said, “I have the results of the analysis you asked me to dig up.”

Xana read through the contents, her face a mask of thoughtfulness. “How many know about this?”

“Not many,” John guessed. “But I don’t have official numbers.” He waited a moment before throwing in the rest of what he had found out, “Ma’am? He’s going to go on a media tour. It’s small, I think he’s trying to build up a presence.”

The Secretary of Starfleet quirked up an eyebrow up at that. “Well isn’t he busy?” Looking over she said, “John, you’re doing well so far with your increased responsibilities. Let’s see what you do with this.”

=/\=

Scene: Outside John Hiram’s office -> John’s office

“John!” Leonard Jacoby said cheerfully as he waited outside John Hiram’s office later that day.

“Mr. Hiram,” John corrected as he walked in with his cup of coffee.

“I am Lt. Leonard Jacoby, Staff Assistant to Admiral Edgerton,” Leonard explained.

“I know who you are. I know who you are because I spoke to you when I told you that I wanted to speak to your boss,” John Hiram explained. “Now, I’m a busy man with little time to explain the minutiae of life. Where is Admiral Edgerton?”

“I’m Lt. Leonard Jacoby--”

“I got that the first time,” John sighed.

“--and the Admiral sent me.”

“Well I’m going to have to send you back,” John responded. “Is the Admiral going to do a media tour?”

“I wouldn’t know that,” Leonard tried before being cut off.

“I do know, and so do you, so let’s cut the crap; that’s why you’re here,” John Hiram pointed out. “Now let’s get on the same page. There is one unified message when it comes to Starfleet, defense and exploration, and it comes from this office, not yours. Instead what we’ve got here is a Fleet Admiral -- the Starfleet Chief of Staff -- with a different message from this office. A message of trashing this office and the Administration--”

Leonard Jacoby could take no more. “Sir, Admiral Edgerton has some real concerns over *your* President and Secretary of Starfleet.”

John waited a beat before saying. “They are not *my* President and Secretary -- they are *everybody’s* President and Secretary of Starfleet.” He waited a second before saying, “He’s going to the media to trash the President and Secretary before going on a tour of the fleet; it’ll be the last thing he does before going on a tour of the far reaches of the Beta Quadrant. It’s a ring and run.”

“So he feels that taking this opportunity to express his opinions -- opinions which are considered expert level -- is his patriotic duty,” Leonard continued on, ignoring John’s analysis of the situation.

“Well that shouldn’t get too many people concerned,” John commented dryly as he rolled his hazel eyes.

“Sir?” Leonard replied, not entirely getting John’s Gamma Quadrant dry wit.

John leaned in; he was not a physically intimidating man. He was a slight man, a man whose genetics did not incline themselves to brawn nor did a childhood of sickness. He had a sharp mind and he knew what he lacked in brawn he had in wits and in this case, stature of office. “Tell Admiral Edgerton he’s a coward that he wouldn’t come here himself.”

=/\=

Scene: Secretary of Starfleet - Conference Room

There were several rooms in the Secretary of Starfleet’s suite -- there was the outer office that was a set of two desks that everyone saw when they first came. Off that room were four doors that crowned the main room in a semi-circle; the main door straight back lead to the biggest room -- the Secretary of Starfleet’s personal office. The smallest door was off to the left -- it was to the bathroom for the suite. One door to the right lead to John Hiram’s office, and finally the last door lead to the Conference Room.

Xana had kept her staff small; it made things easier to manage and as someone who valued loyalty above all else it made things simpler. Thus the Conference Room was used more for ceremonial purposes, or for things like today -- when Xana had to do work but couldn’t be seen doing it from her official desk.

Sitting at a long glass table, she leaned in to the computer that was propped up. The lovely middle aged woman on the other side could only see Xana, and a pretty garden through a window behind her; none of the trappings of the office of Secretary of Starfleet were visible.

That was intentional.

“I’m so glad we understand we each other,” Xana smiled.

The Admiral on the other side of the screen smiled back. {{So you can make that happen?}}

Xana waved her hand, all that was missing was a magic wand at this point. One year she threw a literary themed costume party and she came dressed as the Blue Fairy; she was fairly certain she still had that wand around somewhere in her closet. “Admiral Branch, a trip out to my old stomping grounds and bringing along the President is the easiest thing I’ve been asked today.”

That was true; Xana had been on the comm with a variety of Admirals today who had treated this allegiance baiting as a Christmas/Hanukkah/Birthday/Celebration of the Glory of Kahless all rolled into one. “Secretary, I’d like some new ships” or “Secretary, I’d like a new assignment” or “Secretary, I’d like a new concubine” were some of the things she heard.

To which her answers were “Maybe”, “Sure”, and “Gods no - what the hell are you doing out there anyway?”.

“I have a far more important things than to be coming here to teach you about the realities of the Federation!” Edgerton yelled as he barged into her office. “I am not a coward simply because I focus on those realities rather than your ego!”

John Hiram came running in after Admiral Edgerton, sweat coming down his temple. Of the all the ways he played out in his mind calling the Admiral a coward, this was not one of them. “Admiral, I called you a--”

“Felicity, I’ll call you back,” Xana announced as she cut off transmission. Waving off her Chief of Staff, Xana said, “John leave us.” When John left, Xana sat back in her chair and studied the Admiral. “Edgerton, how lovely of you to call upon me,” she cooed. Crossing her legs she said, “As you’re now here let’s talk about your little media tour that you think you’re doing.”

“I think alerting the public to staggering dangerous vulnerabilities of the current state of the military is an act of conscious,” Edgerton barked at her.

“And I would too, Admiral, I say this with all due respect--”

“Shove your respect,” Edgerton snarled, baring his teeth at her. Hiram might have taken the rap for calling him a coward but he had no doubt that it came from Bonviva. “I don’t want it.”

The Bolian/Italian never lost her cool and just kept going as if his words didn’t matter, “I say this with all due respect: I think your motives are personal, and I'd like to discuss that.”

“Sure! How about we discuss new defense allocations of critical resources being down overall from four hundred billion to three hundred billion. Is that personal?” Edgerton glared at her.

Xana pursed her lips at that but met the cold glare head on, “No, Admiral, I think that's about the Second Dominion War ending years ago and the Federation not needing to spend quite so much defending itself against a force that can't bake bread now because that’s how broken we left them.”

Edgerton paced around the room, his teeth bared trying to find the jugular, “Op-Tempo is up, which is fine, but the problem is Pers-Tempo is up too. Do you know what that is? It's the rate of turnover in individual jobs.”

“Yes, Pers-Tempo is up,” Xana nodded. Standing up she walked around the table, and sat at the edge. Folding her arms under her breasts she said, “It’s up because more alluring civilian jobs are enticing men and women trained in high tech. I think the Administration is more than happy to take the rap for a booming workforce.”

Edgerton shook his head at that as if the argument was a buzzing bee he couldn’t shake. “Two divisions, the 10th at McKinley and the 1st in SB1, have been rated C4. That's the lowest of four possible readiness grades. You know what that means, Princess? It means, "Unfit for service.".”

Xana shook her head, “No, Admiral, again, with all respect, I hate to disagree, but it means unfit for service based on the "two war" doctrine. It's based on how fast these divisions would be able to extract themselves from their peacekeeping mission, retrain on home bases, and ship off to a second of two, full-scale Dominion War-sized conflicts. And I will tell you that I am beginning to question whether the C4 ratings might not be a political maneuver on the part of some to help the Essentialists allies in Federation Council secure more defense resources.”

“Well, I'll be telling my story to Aleksey Nikitin,” Edgerton announced as he headed out.

Xana shook her head to his back. Oh the things she could say; that she could pick up the comm and call a man she had once rolled around half naked with and ask nicely to not take the interview. Then again Alek wouldn’t do that, no matter what Xana looked like nearly 7 years ago. She could offer Alek some tastier bit of intrigue to report on, and that may still have to happen. But first, she had to stop Edgerton from going to the press -- not just Alek but anyone. “No, I don't think you will, Admiral.”

There was something in the tone of her voice. Something about the finality of it. She knew something and he wasn’t about to leave here without knowing it too. “I'm sorry?”

“I said, "I don't think you will." I notice among your many decorations is the Intel Star. You're wearing it now, as well as in numerous photographs, including some taken with enlisted men in the field. The bio your office put out says you won it while on the U.S.S. Valhalla. The thing is, you never were on any kind of Intel assignment while on the Valhalla. I looked through your records -- the official and the unofficial ones. There is nothing in your records to indicate that you were ever awarded the Intel Star. Your late Commanding Officer’s logs never indicated granting you the Intel Star. Your Intelligence Officers, both the Liaison on the ship and the Officers in the field, weren’t awarded anything at that time; and in fact in their reports from those years there is nothing noted that you were on assignment with them.”

Xana walked up to Edgerton and went nose to nose with him. “Right now, and in photos, you're wearing a medal you never won. How does that usually go over with the boys and girls in the field?”

Edgerton turned as red as a tomato at that. “How dare you…”

“I dare because I am right,” Xana replied. “You’re not doing the media junket and you’re not going on the ship readiness tour.” Holding up her hand she began to tick off her fingers, “There is one message regarding Starfleet, the readiness of its fleet, and its mission. There is one President and one Secretary of Starfleet.” She paused before asking quietly, “Am I clear?”

“How dare you come in here like some strumpet, and presume to tell me that I’m wrong. You know nothing about leading the Fleet or what the Federation needs,” Edgerton snarled.

Xana stared him down. “I wore the uniform well and I loved it; I commanded two units in two different quadrants. I have served the Federation in places that have no name and I have killed people better than you in its defense. Then I was a Federation Ambassador, going in first so that the men and women in uniform didn’t have to risk their lives. Don’t you ever think that I am some politician that you can just wipe away. I am here because I have survived far worse than you, am better than you, and most importantly I am your superior. From now on, Admiral Edgerton, you damn well better start acting like it.”

The angry Fleet Admiral turned on his heel and left without another word. Angus, the old Rotweiller/German Shepherd, got up from his spot on the floor, wandered over to Xana and nudged her until she began to pet him absentmindedly. “Well that went well,” she said to the dog.

The dog sighed and leaned in more.

Gathering up her personal effects, Xana let her thoughts wander. She thought she made progress with some of the Admirals but after this tete-a-tete with Edgerton she had no doubt he’d retaliate. The info about the Intel Star was damning but it wasn’t the smoking phaser she wanted. It was enough to keep him in line for now, keep him away from the limelight.

Nodding to John Hiram who came out of his own office once he heard the doors she said, “Have Shin ready the shuttle, I’d like to go home soon,” Xana murmured.

“Ma’am you have briefings for tomorrow--”

“Yeah I’ll take the prep home now,” Xana announced referring to the volumes of documentation that came with her job. “I’m late for dinner.”

John Hiram nodded, as he started typing on a PADD; he figured she would be on her way soon. After many years with the Secretary he knew she was prompt for meals. “One more thing.” When Xana raised an eyebrow at him he said, “Someone from The List is in your office.”

That got Xana to stop and think. Damn, she had to work on that -- she had given a small select few people carte blanche to her office. That was all fine and good except when she wanted to go home. And she would put her hand on any holy book when she said that someone always showed up when she was trying to get home.

Still she walked in expecting to find someone from the political arena -- they never had any respect for her meal times, especially dinner when it was with her family. Instead she found an officer sitting in her chair, with his feet kicked up on her desk. “You don’t have a hammock in here,” he explained.

For a moment Xana was struck mute, a myriad of memories and emotions flooded her. The first was that there was a time when seeing she no longer had a hammock, the man here would have just put one in. And then he would have outfitted it with lasers or a popcorn maker or something else that couldn’t possibly come up with on her own. He was unpredictable; the first time she met him -- at the docking bay of the USS SUTTNER -- he lead her in a wild dance, because as he put it “It’s Tuesday so why not?”. But that unpredictability could also be used on the ships he served; more than once Xana recalled hearing from Gene how the engineer in question had just pulled something out of thin air to make it work.

He was wild, imaginative, and charismatic; it was in his disposition to be kind and giving. She remembered the mission she had to take to BAJOR a year after Gene died, the one where she had to prove he was really dead. The engineer-turned-CO not only offered up his ship, but he stayed by her. And then after that horrible day when she (again) identified her late husband’s body, the CO being the good friend that he was offered up a bar to help her get drunk and then kindly offered up his bed while he slept on the couch.

For a man who had lost so much -- his wife and best friend within the course of a year -- tragedy had not killed the kindness in him. But it had created a hardened shell on the outside; Xana sincerely doubted that Tim Layne took anyone dancing just because it was Tuesday.

And somehow, she thought, the universe was just a bit dimmer because of that.

Tim Layne, meanwhile, stood up from where he had been sitting and walked over to his friend. Giving her a hug he said, “Good to see you, Xana.”

As she was being enveloped in a big bear hug she said quietly, “It’s good to see you too.” She meant it too, even if she felt like all she was seeing was a ghost of the man she once knew.

=/\=

Scene: Paris, France: Streets -> Parking

“I don’t understand why you hate this city so much, it’s beautiful!” Xana said with an amused annoyance. The man to her right was so ethnocentric sometimes.

“Paris is a foul city, and their culture is so overblown. I mean, I admire their dogged determination to turn crap ingredients into haute cuisine, and their admiration of arrogance is at least comforting, but calling Paris the seat of French culture is like calling Hollywood the seat of American culture. It’s not some great example, it’s just the one everybody sees the most.” Tim groused as he tried to steer them back towards the shuttle parking instead of the impromptu guided tour Xana was trying to give him.

“But have you even tried any of these patisseries?” Xana said, using food to try and steer his opinion.

“Yep, I like tiramisu better.” Tim said plainly, making a small gesture towards the shuttle port.

“Subtle hint.” Xana retorted dryly. “Did you bring a runabout?”

Tim shook his head. “Nope, I took my launch out.”

There were those in the fleet that wouldn’t think twice about a Captain’s Launch, but for those who knew Tim’s reputation and where his true skills lie, the concept of him having his very own private conveyance was fright worthy. The man simply could not let a piece of technology alone.

Tim nodded with his head up ahead towards a silver craft; the registry was on the front just above the lights that Xana knew would turn blue. There was red pinstriping on the side and the name written in script along the side.

“It looks normal,” Xana admittedly. Squinting her eyes she asked, “AMKIAD?”

“Kids,” he explained. When he saw that Xana was going to say something sweet he muttered, “The boys each wanted it named after themselves, I settled that and threw in Amaryllis.” As Xana laughed at that, Tim smiled slightly.

While they walked to the AMKIAD Xana asked, “How is the PANDORA? It’s been awhile since I was on board.”

“Say the word, and we’d be happy to fly some fancy-assed flag to put you on board,” Tim offered. As Xana laughed again at that, he began to feel the gnawings...not of guilt, but something akin to that. "Hey, bellissima remember last year when I asked you for some logs and writings of Mac's?"

It looked like Xana was going to respond a group of men and women came out from behind the AMKIAD. There were four total - a Nausciaan, a Rigellian, Benzite and a Human. Instinctively Tim moved ahead of Xana.

"Nice ship," the Rigellian offered. Running a hand over the bow the Rigellian offered, "Be a damn shame to chip the paint."

"Damn shame," Tim agreed. Folding his arms across his broad chest he nodded to the craft and said, "So let's not have that happen."

"Agreed," the Benzite replied almost cheerfully. "Codes now."

"Oh HELL NO," Tim roared. Then he had a thought - how the hell was he going to get Xana out of this? Instead she stepped to the side and sighed. "Come now, we can be amiable and settle this."

The Human whipped out a phaser, "I don't think so Madame Secretary. We're not playing games here."

Xana took a brief moment to notice that the Human man, who was holding the phaser with only one hand, and it was shaking at that. Making a fist with her right hand Xana popped it under the barrel, causing the phaser to fly out of the man's hands, flipping once then twice in the air. Her long arms were able to easily reach up midway to its third somersault and grabbed it before the man could. Grabbing it firmly, while turning hand 90 degrees to the right she announced, "Rock, PADD, Phaser - I win. Get your ass on the ground." When the Human man didn't move fast enough, Xana shot just above his head, "Warning shot. Down - now!"

In the mean time the Benzite, who had been trying to jam his way into the craft, turned to face her. "Madame Secretary, this won't look good on your record."

"This is going to look spectacular," Xana announced. "I'm helping one of the 'Fleet's finest COs apprehend some petty criminals. Any doubts about my ability to be tough are wiped because of you you."

The Benzite went to open his mouth, so Xana shot above his head, swiping the AMKIAD. "Warning shot for you," she announced.

"MY LAUNCH," Tim yelled. While it might have seemed the epitome of superficial to escalate the situation when his ship was dinged, the truth of the matter was that the ship could be fixed. No, what finally caused the Black Lion to show his teeth and claws was that he'd plain and simple had enough of their shit.

The Naussican was his first target. He was the biggest, had a genetic advantage in lean muscle density, and he'd shown patience enough to let his fellows be the distraction. Instead of immediately acting, he'd drawn a wicked looking knife, and was moving to stab Xana with it.

He would’ve landed the shot too, except the male had interposed himself. Instead of a kidney shot on the tall woman, it was just above the hips and mostly to the outside of the male’s body. “There’s my bitch.” Tim said with a feral smile.

For a moment, Xana and the others paused, the suddenness of action shocking them into stillness. One moment Tim and the Naussican were circling one another, the next, the Naussican was bending backwards after eating a leaping elbow strike to the jaw.

The alien had scored a cut before being struck though, and the slash across Tim's chest had already began staining his tank top crimson. Shaking his head clear, the Naussican sought to cut the human again, slashing for his throat.

The strike didn't land though. Tim stepped into the swing, turned his back to the alien, and drove his left elbow into the creature's face before seizing control of his weapon arm. In a single sharp movement, Tim brought the Naussican's elbow down against his shoulder, satisfied to hear both the wet snap and the creature's howl.

Now, that usually would've been enough, but they had seriously pissed him off. Still in control of the Naussican's arm, Tim shouldered him into a fireman's carry before slinging him into the Benzite.

With the three muggers subdued, Xana took a moment to look at her friend. She'd seen pictures of him on the beaches of Risa, but that had been years ago. He'd taken care of himself then, now, he was a monster of muscle and sinew. Each muscle stood out like an anatomical study, tightened and honed after years of heavy physical activity.

While her gaze was appraising, it was not through a lens of lust or desire. Even if this were no more than a day at the beach, she wasn’t the type to perv on him. No, she was largely seeing where else he’d been hurt. Her attention had been divided, and she hadn’t seen all of their altercation.

“I think they’re finished,” Xana said dryly, putting her hand on one of his massive shoulders. She recoiled just as fast as he turned to glare at her. His pupils, still dilated from adrenaline, made his hazel eyes look black, and the way his body had rippled and moved at her touch made her think he was going to attack her next. Never before in her life had she been afraid of him, not until that moment.

In keeping with the theme of sudden response, his features immediately shifted and softened. “So I left the kids at the villa, I was thinking we’d have dinner there,” Tim said after a beat.

“Yeah that sounds good,” Xana nodded all the while thinking to herself, **Thank Gods I’ve never pissed him off.**.

=/\=
Location: USS ARMSTRONG

Scene: Counselor’s Office

Phia did not have a glamorous job. There were some members of her family who sought out that kind of thing. As that would have involved people and being happy, or at the very least pleasant, it was safe to say that the Bolian/Vulcan was never destined for glamour.

Rather, she enjoyed sitting in her office pouring over reports, looking for something here. Usually things weren’t obvious so she had to hunt for them; in a report here, a log there, a lone transmission stored in a forgotten databank. It was a game of hide-and-seek with the idiots who were in Starfleet, and sometimes outside of it too.

People wanted to know if she was a Counselor or an Intel agent; the answer was she was both, in so much she was Bolian and Vulcan. She could no more cleave herself in half to separate her cultural identities as she could her training. She knew how to recognize the psychological warning signs in people and treat them (if they were willing) and she knew how to comb through reports and logs looking for warning signs (if she had access). Both required patience, a fair amount of quiet, and an attention to detail.

As she had watched Bomba lying blissfully in his drug-induced stupor a thought had occurred to the Bolian/Vulcan. Storm Bomba was so…*obvious*. He was obviously stupid; obviously unprepared; and obviously unfit for the role of Executive Officer. Even the newbies on the ship knew it and they were so wet behind the ears that most of them believed that this had been a routine mission.

So how in the hell had he become one? Egads, Starfleet was known for protecting its own, and sure there were depletions in the ranks after the War, but it didn’t explain Storm Bomba.

With a strict word to Cade Foster to let her know the minute Bomba woke up, Phia turned on her heel to go into her office. She poured through Captain’s logs, under the guise of removal from office, pulled up his personal logs, and started digging.

The Captains he served under tried to be kind his reports but it was clear that that Bomba wasn’t destined for the greatness he thought he was. He could handle, the COs noted, smaller jobs on the ship but he was never going to be in the big chair.

Yet there it was in his logs -- he was constantly being promoted.

The link wasn’t obvious, not like Bomba was. No it was subtle, which made it more satisfying that she found it.

[[Pretty Boy is waking up, if you’re into that kind of thing,]] Cade Foster’s voice came over the comm.

Phia didn’t deign to reply. Instead she downloaded her findings to a PADD and walked out of her office and out to Sickbay. Cade was hovering over Bomba’s bed as the Risan was moaning with the dramatic flair one would expect.

Now the Counseling took over. She noted the glassy eyes, the widened pupils; he still was under physical duress. “You’ve had quite the ordeal,” Phia noted.

“Lt. Phia, there are lots of moving parts here,” Storm slurred.

“Awesome I didn’t have that on my Bomba Bingo card,” Cade replied as he moved to the other side of the bed.

“Do you mind?” Phia snapped.

“No I’m good,” Cade replied with a false cheerfulness, “just the dedicated doctor checking in on *my* patient.”

“He’s *my* patient too!” Phia snarled.

“I have a headache,” Storm whimpered.

Phia cocked her head to the side. “It must be lonely for you,” she commented.

Cade turned his head at that but said nothing. He was beginning to wonder if Phia hit her head -- that almost sounded...kind.

“I am lonely,” Storm nodded.

“Ever miss any of your old colleagues?” Phia asked quietly. “I have in the past.”

“Really?” Cade asked.

“Not all of them,” Phia continued on without looking up. “But some of them.”

“Phia, can you help me contact them? This isn’t going like I planned. Or like they said,” Storm sighed.

Phia nodded. “I thought as much.” She waited a bit before asking, “Who did you want me to contact? Captain Sperling?”

“No, she never wanted to go to the edge,” Bomba yawned. “But she was on the DIXON and…” another yawn came out, “there was a Cmdr. Stonn. He was nice. Funny for a Vulcan.”

Phia scanned her PADD and noted the name. “I’ll see what I can do,” she lied. “Who else?” When Storm started to nod off she asked, “Who should I call from the MINERVA?”

That shook up Storm a little. “Such a quiet little ship,” he mused. He half smiled to himself. “There was…” another yawn “a poker game.”

“Yeah? Did you win?” Phia asked.

“I did and I got a promotion out of it,” he smiled proud of himself. “Don’t tell the Captain but Lt. Jacoby helped with that.”

“Anyone else?” Phia asked doing an excellent impression of a secretary. “Still have a soft spot for your first CO? Lots of people do.” Leaning in she whispered, “I do if you want me to be honest.”

Storm gave an exaggerated nod, “I loved being on Edgerton’s team. And he’s so important now, didya know that? He said if I didn’t mess this up I could go back to working for him again.”

Then Bomba snored.

Cade looked over at Phia. Slapping up the forcefield around the patient he whispered, “That’s not going to hold up in a JAG. You had a witness but the questionee clearly couldn’t have told you what day it was.”

“I know that,” Phia muttered.

“Nurse, watch him. Don’t let him move. Let me know when he wakes up,” Cade barked at a nearby nurse who had other things to do. When the nurse began to move, the doctor followed the Counselor. “Well?” he asked. Phia didn’t answer him so he asked again, “Well?”

Phia went back to her office and sat in her chair leaving Cade to sit in an overstuffed eggplant-colored papasan chair. “I’m never getting out of this,” he muttered. Glaring at the CNS he asked, “What are you going to do?”

“Look, if it was obvious to you, me, and everyone else on this ship that Bomba was incompetent then it was obvious to everyone else he’s ever worked with,” the blue woman with pointy ears pointed out. “Incompetent people rarely just wake up one day and become incompetent. That means there had to be documentation of his incompetence or--”

“Or there had to be a record of people promoting him inspite of it,” Cade finished off. “Who are those people? What do they have in common?”

“The last one is a Fleet Admiral, I know that,” Phia said. “The others I don’t know,” she admitted. Shrugging she admitted, “I didn’t have a lot of time to devote to this theory. I focused more on his bio than anyone else’s.”

“And they did it because...putting him near power would be the equivalent of a human malfunction of the ship?” Cade offered. “A way to sabotage the ARMSTRONG without someone having to find the smoking black box?”

Phia looked over at her wall, she had one of her sister’s paintings leaning against it; at some point she meant to put it up. “It’s a good theory,” she admitted grudgingly.

“Wait let me note the exact time and date of the complement,” Cade dryly noted. As Phia stared at the wall he asked, “I ask again -- what are you going to do? This won’t hold up to JAG?”

“I’m going to do what you mentioned hours ago -- I’m going to make the call,” Phia sighed. “Now it’s time.” With that Phia began to type in a sequence of codes to initiate a secure transmission to EARTH.

[[Phia - this is not a good time to call your cousin for a family chat,]] Thomas Varn warned from the Bridge. [[I can’t just let communications go out now.]]

Phia sighed and replied, “Listen I don’t like admitting I’m related to that social diseased pain in the ass but you don’t need to get your feathers in a knot. This has to do with a breach in Security and it goes high up.” When Varn sighed but did nothing Phia nodded at Cade.

“Oh hell, Wingboy, let it through. I know what she’s going to say and it’s worth it,” Cade sighed as he leaned back, rubbing his eyes.

[[Great both of you conspiring, this sounds great. Want to tell me--?]]

“NO!” they both bellowed.

[[So happy to deal with both of you again. Like one wasn’t bad enough,]] Varn muttered. There was some typing before he said, [[You’ve got two minutes after the clock goes off, make good use of it.]] There was a pause before he said, [[And Jos said you better tell him. Varn out.]]

As the seconds ticked down, Cade mentioned offhandedly, “You may need to come up with a new nickname for your cousin. She’s been married to Monkeywrench for several years; not sure that still counts for social-diseased pain in the ass.”

“It’s on my to-do list,” Phia muttered. When the clock went off she heard… “Thank you for conacting the Secretary of Starfleet…”

Once that message passed, Phia leaned in and began, “Xana, we don’t talk, and that’s fine. But you have to listen to me. There are problems out here. You need to investigate the following persons: Lt. Cmdr. Storm Bomba, Lt. Leonard Jacoby, Cmdr. Stonn and...Fleet Admiral Edgerton. The first one I listed is an idiot but the rest of them, I believe, conspired to promote him to put him in a dangerous position of power on the ARMSTRONG. If I’m right then it wouldn’t be the first time. I’ll be filing an official report but honestly the ARMSTRONG is not in a strong position right now and I don’t know if we’ll make it. Dr. Cade Foster will also be filing a separate report.”

“Thanks for asking, I’d love to file a report to the Secretary of Starfleet,” Cade muttered.

Phia ignored him and continued on, “Xana...there are problems out here. You need to fix this. End transmission.”

=/\=

Location: EARTH

Scene: Edgerton’s office

[[Xana, we don’t talk, and that’s fine. But you have to listen to me. There are problems out here. You need to investigate the following persons: Lt. Cmdr. Storm Bomba, Lt. Leonard Jacoby, Cmdr. Stonn and...Fleet Admiral Edgerton. The first one I listed is an idiot but the rest of them, I believe, conspired to promote him to put him in a dangerous position of power on the ARMSTRONG. If I’m right then it wouldn’t be the first time. I’ll be filing an official report but honestly the ARMSTRONG is not in a strong position right now and I don’t know if we’ll make it. Dr. Cade Foster will also be filing a separate report.

[[Thanks for asking, I’d love to file a report to the Secretary of Starfleet]]

[[Xana...there are problems out here. You need to fix this. End transmission.]]

Leonard Jacoby stood in front of Richard Edgerton’s desk. “That female’s voice is Lt. Phia and the male’s voice is Dr. Cade Foster.”

“Do we have the reports yet?” Edgerton asked.

“No, sir,” Leonard reported.

Edgerton waved his hand. “Well we can’t have the Secretary worried. She’s about to have a lot on her mind. Speaking of which...Leonard please excuse me. I have a call to make.”

=/\=

NRPG: Part 1 of 2!

=/\=

Sarah Albertini-Bond

as

Xana Bonviva

Secretary of Starfleet

and

Tim Layne

Commanding Officer

USS PANDORA