Magic Bullet
Posted on Aug 22, 2014 @ 12:17pm by Ambassador Xana Bonviva & Thoris P'Trell
Edited on on Aug 22, 2014 @ 12:18pm
Mission: The Tangled Webs We Weave
“Magic Bullet”
(Continued from “Taking the Stand”)
=/\=
“Memories are bullets. Some whiz by and only spook you. Others tear you open and leave you in pieces.”
- Richard Kadrey, “Kill the Dead”
=/\=
Location: Earth
Scene: President’s Office
SD: [2.14]0721.1932
Time Index: The day before the Century’s decloak
“And I respectfully give the floor back to President Moray,” the Canadienne said, taking her seat.
MC Martine crossed her arms, barely causing a ripple in her expertly tailored aubergine pantsuit. She looked across the room to Thoris P’Trell, who seemed calmer than when she had last spoken to him, but his antennae were betraying the rest of his demeanor. As far as she knew, he continued to ‘investigate’ Ms. Bonviva’s connection to one Rawyvin Seth, in an effort to placate Edgerton, but he didn’t seem comfortable disclosing anything more than that to the Interim Secretary. It was as if he had built a wall between them, but out of protection rather than animosity.
The rest of the Council was congenial enough, or at the very least working hard to make it appear as such. It amused her to think that with a group that contained a Cardassian as the VP, the most inhospitable of them all had been none other than Richard Edgerton, human on the outside but some sort of rotten enigma on the inside. And with his absence, a fresh breeze had blown in, smelling as sweetly as the Gourdon flowers that cascaded down the walls of the oldest Paris buildings.
But, that didn’t mean his presence still wasn’t felt. He pulled countless strings like a marionette in order to tell his own story, a heroic epic in which he was king and savior. Saving the Federation from itself. It wasn’t a new story. Countless, nameless people, had, in the name of what is right and good, had become the very thing they despised. Forcing the common good down people’s throats without perspective had a way of doing that.
Marie-Claire had grabbed the proverbial bull by the horns for her first official act as Interim Secretary by choosing to go first with her reporting. Not only did it get business out of the way, it allowed her a clear mind with which to observe. Her line of sight went back to Thoris. She knew Xana’s absence had been a strain to the Andorian. He was doing admirably well given the circumstances, but Martine worried about what this was doing to him. The Romulans’ irritation with some kind of perceived slight was occupying his time as much as his unholy alliance with Edgerton. Neither option was particularly healthy for the nervous man.
Her eyes moved over to the warm presence of the President. Moray was Denobulan, practically a diplomat by nature. Regardless of the circumstances, he carried himself as neutral and generally friendly.
To his right sat Jori Langor, the aforementioned Cardassian Vice President. While not an evil man, certainly far removed from his forefathers’ terrorization of Bajor over fifty years prior, he was keenly observant, always looking for the next angle, the spaces between the lines held the most mystery for him. Whereas Moray would go next door and simply ask to borrow a cup of sugar, Langor would try to coerce it away from the unsuspecting neighbor.. or even sneak around the back way and just steal it. The man only had patience when it served him.
The remaining men and women around the table were lesser known to her. But she already knew the Secretary of Veterans’ Affairs only liked his coffee black, and that the Benzite who was the Secretary of Health and Human Services was the fastest typist she’d ever seen.
In their own way, the Council was like a ship’s crew; part team, part dysfunctional family. Working together for a common goal with uncommon differences, and differences of opinion. But where others might have been troubled by this, Martine was buoyant, relishing the chance to see each challenge to a conclusion. And she’d be damned if any challenges were failed while it was her watch.
=/\=
Scene: Secretary of Starfleet’s Office
Time Index: about an hour later
The meeting convened on schedule- almost- and there was a small pocket of time before her afternoon briefing with John Hiram. Hopefully there would be time for a quick lunch in the quiet of the office. The city of lights was certainly no Toronto, but it had still had some charm.
She took care to close the door behind her on the way in, as a measure of privacy, however fleeting. In fact, she already had a visitor. He had been seated but stood immediately upon MC’s arrival.
“If I might have a minute of your time,” he began. His face had a bit of scruff, and his shirt was wrinkled but tucked in. He wasn’t exactly spit and polish, but didn’t look like a thug either.
A brief second of uncertainty became more clear when she saw the credentials attached to his belt. She approached the other side of her desk in a measured, leisurely fashion. She would not be pushed. “I am not in the habit of granting interviews to those who sneak into my office, Mister-”
“I didn’t sneak, Madame Secretary,” he protested. “You simply have an easily duped receptionist. And it’s Nikitin. Aleksey Nikitin.”
Martine’s eyebrow raised. “You did the story about the pacifist Breen group seeking asylum on Neptune. It was interesting.”
He managed a slight bow. “And I think my viewers would find your opinion equally so.”
“My opinion on what?” she asked pointedly.
He gestured with his left hand as if he were trying to pitch an ad campaign for a shiny sports car. “A fresh take on what it’s really like to serve as acting Secretary of Starfleet. The unique challenges you face as you acclimate yourself to the responsibilities of the position.”
Martine snorted. “La connerie! Total fluff piece, eh? I’ll tell you something. If you wanted a real story you should have asked Xana Bonviva her opinion.”
An odd look crossed the reporter’s face, brief but not enough so to evade MC’s stare. “Surely you must appreciate the enigma you are to the general public and to our followers,” Alek managed.
Her voice was glazed with humor. “I appreciate your attention, Mister Nikitin, but it’s obviously misplaced. Would you like something to eat? I’m feeling rather peckish, and even though I may not be willing to share words with you the least I can do is get you a sandwich.”
Alek shrugged affably. “Corned beef on rye with mustard. And it’s yet.”
The staunch older woman brought his sandwich as well as a roast beef and brie on baguette for herself. “What’s yet?”
“You are not willing to share words with me- *yet*.”
Marie-Claire laughed.”You should quit while you’re ahead.”
The journalist took a greedy bite. The mustard was extra sharp, just how he liked it. “Never, Persistence makes headlines.”
“Persistence makes enemies,” Martine responded placidly.
“Mark my words- there will be a time where you feel you have something to say. You can’t stay in this job without eventually coming to that conclusion. And I will be there for that moment… with your permission, of course.”
=/\=
Scene: Conference room, South Wing of the President’s Residence
Time Index: The next day, approximately five hours after the Century’s decloak
Marie-Claire Martine approached the podium with a confident stride and serious expression. John Hiram stayed three paces behind until she was halfway between the door and the podium, then he stopped and stood off to her right side. He ran his hand over his forehead and through his hair, trying not to look worried. There had been a lot to process in the past several hours, very little of it good.
He glanced at the older woman who was heir apparent to the maelstrom caused by the unorthodox return of the Century. Her ebony hair, riddled with silver, reflected the high contrast lighting. She wore an understated navy pantsuit and a powder blue ascot that brought out the color of her eyes. Martine glanced around the room, allowing a few seconds for pictures to be taken. She would have to remember thank President Moray for the use of the conference area. It just seemed appropriate that business so important be handled in a location of proper reverence.
To say the room was more packed than usual was a gross understatement. An entire double row of newscasters and reporters stood up in the back and there was very little room to move, even for those who were seated. They were a captive audience, although captive by their own curiosity and need to know.
“I wanted to offer my gratitude for assembling on such short notice,” MC said calmly. “Needless to say it’s been a busy day, so I appreciate your patience in the matter. Mister Tinsell, your question?”
Steve Tinsell practically jumped out of his chair in the front row center. “Have the Romulans and Klingons ‘reached out’ to the Office of the Secretary due to the cloaking demonstration provided by the Century earlier today? The Treaty of Algeron-”
Martine put her hand up to cut him off. “I have full confidence in the abilities of the Secretary of Interplanetary Relations as he meets this challenge head on. I’m equally certain that the Romulan Senate and Klingon High Council will communicate their concerns when they see fit, in their own due time. I would not presume to speak for them.” It was safe to say the Romulans were now officially pissed off, but that truth wouldn’t make polite conversation.
The boisterous man was not finished. “Why did the ship not reveal itself until it appeared in the sky over Paris? It had been in Federation space presumably for a time as it approached Earth.”
The Canadienne shook her head. It had better have been a damn good reason for all the hoopla and potential public relations nightmare it had caused. “It must have been important to bring her home in one piece. But even that is my opinion. The crew that arrived with it will be given ample opportunity to make their statements.”
Eager for more but at the same time satisfied, the uppity reporter sat back down. M-C then gestured towards a slight Trill woman near the back. “Miss Feliza?”
Noelle Feliza leveled an aquamarine gaze at the podium. “Madam Secretary, Captain Michael Kane was in command of the Discovery when it was lost. Does that mean he bears the brunt of the responsibility in its destruction?”
The murmurs swelled in a mix of both dissent and agreement. Martine raised her voice above the din. “I urge the press and those watching this broadcast not to try anyone in the court of public opinion. Part of a Captain’s job is to protect the resources of Starfleet and the Federation. But another part is the ability to make a decision between two or more unpleasant alternatives. I think it’s clear that Captain Kane had to make a difficult decision to save what he could of the ships and his crew.”
Hiram watched as she pressed up against her anger and somehow managed to communicate compassion rather than aggravation. There was definitely an art to it.
“Okay, Leon, shoot,” the interim Secretary pointed at the Latin man near the fifth row.
Leon Carlos straightened his collar. “The last suspected whereabouts of the Century were as a possible hijacking by Edmund Dupree, the leader of the Neo-Essentialist movement. Does this mean closure or more information regarding the group?”
“I should remind everyone that was ten years ago. It would be unwise to presume anything regarding the unique brand of terrorism that is Neo-Essentialism. I’m hopeful we can solidify the action plan and fate of Dupree, but beyond that, too much time has passed.” If there was anything about a conspiracy, it was rarely controlled by just one person. History demonstrated over and over again there was always someone waiting in the wings.
M-C nodded near the front of the room, where Aleksey Nikitin had been motioning almost frantically for his turn. “Mister Nikitin,” she acknowledged. Their eyes met with familiarity, and perhaps a bit of irony.
Alek stroked the scruff on his face as he held the digital micro recording equipment at the best angle he could. “My viewers wish to know your opinion on what happened to the USS Discovery. Need I remind you, the ship was just refitted and shouldn’t have been at a greater disadvantage than the Century, which for all intents and purposes was a ten year old derelict vessel.”
Her mouth softly curved upward in the suggestion of a smile. “My thoughts on this matter would be pure conjecture at this time. I’m not even a member of the STSB.” This response brought a titter of laughter. “But I assure you that a full and complete Board of Inquiry will be conducted, as it would any time a starship meets an untimely end. But one thing is crystal clear: the loss of life from this event is unquestioned and the real tragedy here. It takes a special breed of individual to select this life, and those who died protecting the Federation should never be forgotten.” She paused, then motioned to Hiram. It was time to wrap up this dog and pony show.
John stepped forward. “The press conference is over. Thank you for your questions,” he said perfunctorily, allowing Martine to cross in front of him and then proceeded to follow her out. A babble rose in the room. There were still way more questions than answers. And it would remain that way for some time.
(NRPG: STSB stands for Space Transit Safety Board)
=/\=
Scene: Thoris’ home
It was one of those rare evenings where Thoris was home on time as opposed to late that night. The work of diplomacy never seemed to be finished, and the last few days especially had been trying on Thoris’ nerves, with the investigation of Xana. What he had found had disturbed him. There were, as he had expected, bogus connections and rumors that were provided to him, but what he had not expected to find were the more substantial reports that he had seen. A communique intercept that seemed to discuss Xana’s whereabouts, reports from otherwise infallibly reliable sources of secret meetings between the criminal Rawyvin Seth and Xana at her own home, and even one that seemed to implicate her knowledge in the most recent jailbreak that had occurred in Romulan territory. There was certainly nothing definitive, but certainly this looked very bad. Myall Tai was now under investigation as well because of this mess, and the Bajoran, while coordial, had not been able to refute the evidence nor take the weight from Thoris’ mind.
He looked at the evidence, tried to separate it from the people he knew. It wasn’t enough for a trial. But it was enough for further investigation; he was going to be lead down a darker murkier hole. That was more troubling in a way. If this could simply be flushed out in a trial then they could all put this behind them. But a trial required burden of proof and they didn’t have that. What Thoris was looking at didn’t meet that criteria.
So instead while Thoris was searching for that burden of proof, there was some level of criminal activity underfoot. That much he was sure of. Who it involved, and to what extent, he didn’t know.
=/\=
Scene: Thoris’ office
The Romulan liaison sat across from Thoris. His face was a mixture of disdainful aloofness and invitation.
Typical Romulan politician.
“What may I do for you?” Thoris asked.
It wasn’t the first time that Thoris asked this. He had asked this multiple times, in multiple ways, today. After some time though, you just exhausted of playing the game and just asked.
“We had a prisoner, now we don’t,” the Romulan liaison stated.
Thoris sighed. “There’s a lot of assumptions here,” the Secretary pointed out.
“Yes,” the Romulan liaison glared. Standing up he said, “It’s an *assumption* on my part that the Federation would help even though they said they would.”
“It’s a Federation citizen that you illegally abducted who was prisoner, not that we’re admitting to anything,” Thoris stated.
“No, not that you’re admitting to anything,” the Romulan liaison replied. The the liaison turned and left.
After the liaison left, Thoris looked at the file on Evangeline Montoya - the lost prisoner in question. “I don’t know who took this girl, or who authorized it, but I don’t know whether to kiss them or turn them over to the Romulans myself,” he muttered.
=/\=
Scene: Office of the Secretary of Starfleet
Time Index: After the events in “Homecoming, Part 2”
It would have been comical, if it wasn’t so serious.
Actually, the truth of the matter was it really was comical, even though it was serious.
“Mom, why is Mr. Hiram pacing?” Dahlia whispered. And pointing to John Hiram who was wringing his hands she asked, “And doing that thing with his hands?”
Xana smiled; due to the recent kidnappings and her own homecoming, she just wanted to be closer to her children. For now, Ben was with his father but Dahlia, surprisingly, volunteered to come to Paris. That thrilled her but she hadn’t thought about how to handle this. It turned out Dahlia was an excellent observer of human nature and although she was a politician’s daughter, smiled at all the right people and was polite enough, she also was astute enough in picking up little things.
Although the hole in the carpet that John Hiram was wearing in anyone could have picked up on.
Settling into the chair, Xana draped an arm around her daughter. “John’s feeling his loyalties torn even though he shouldn’t.”
“John is standing right here,” Hiram muttered. “And it’s not just loyalties, it’s logistics - it’s basic operational reporting structure--”
“I think he’s going to pass out,” Dahlia whispered.
“I think it’s apoplexy,” Xana replied. Turning to John she said, “John, it’s simple. You serve the office, not the person. The office is currently held by the woman inside with whom I’d like to see.”
“I think he thinks it’s weird cause this is your office,” Dahlia pointed out.
“The 10 year old gets it,” John pointed out.
“I’m 9,” Dahlia corrected him.
Rolling her eyes at Dahlia she said, “Be kind to John. His well ordered world is a little upside down.” Turning to the Chief of Staff she said, “John, take it from someone who’s known you since you were a teenager...unclench. It will be fine. Trust me.”
John stomped off. “Trust her, she says. Last time she said that, we had a Borg cube sitting outside Paris.”
“Well where else were they going to park?” Xana pointed out as John went grumbling off.
“Mom?”
Xana looked over at Dahlia. “What, principessa?”
“Is it true? What I heard you and Jake talk about this morning?” Dahlia asked.
Xana paused; her and Jake *hadn’t* told the kids yet about the decision to all follow Jake to his posting. It was pretty much decided but Xana still had to hand in her resignation; which meant that...well it meant that she was ready to go. But only if the person she was ready to hand it off to was worth it. “Maybe,” was all that Xana would commit to.
Marie-Claire Martine entered the office with a grin. “Welcome back, Ms. Bonviva,” she said. “The way Hiram was trying to explain your arrival, it sounded a lot more dangerous.”
“My reputation precedes me,” the tall blue-skinned woman answered.
The older woman focused her attention on Dahlia for a moment. “All is well?” she asked Xana, while never stopping her visual assessment of the girl. Mother and daughter looked resilient.
“Thankfully, yes. But there is a matter I would like to discuss.”
“Shall we?” MC gestured for them to sit down. “Would you like some tea, prosecco, coffee-”
“Raspberry lemonade!” Dahlia said, and the two women shared a congenial expression.
“So, it’s settled,” Martine said, taking little time to produce the pink tinted beverage and three tall glasses.
“I wanted to discuss the current arrangement,” Xana began as MC set the tray down. “How are you faring?”
“No bruises yet,” the dark haired woman joked. “The press conference wasn’t the bloodbath everyone was expecting. Everyone except me, that is. This isn’t the first time I’ve been the social pariah. But it’s nice that it has a purpose now.”
“So you wouldn’t have a problem if this were to continue?”
“You needn’t worry. For lack of a better expression, I’m a tough old bitch… I’m sorry,” she said as an aside to Dahlia for the frank language. “With everything that you and your family have been through, no one would fault you for needing some time to yourselves. How much time do you think you’ll need?”
Xana paused for a moment. “No problems?”
Martine paused for a moment. She realized where this was going. “I didn’t say that,” she proceed cautiously, “But I can handle them.”
Dahlia by this point was getting bored so she started to alternate between sipping her lemonade and playing with a game on her PADD. “Let’s talk then,” Xana smiled.
“I knew I should have stayed with Jake,” Dahlia muttered from the corner.
A good twenty or so minutes later, after a conversation that ranged from the Romulan back door negotiations to the Breen encounters on the borderlands and then Tholian trade negotiations that were rapidly breaking down and now were needing Federation ships as intermediaries, as well as a variety of other topics.
Xana sat back and studied Martine. “I never did answer your original question.”
“No,” the Canadian woman replied. “You didn’t.”
The Bolian/Human looked over at her daughter and smiled gently before turning back to the other woman. Martine was a different person than she was, she handled things differently than she would have, but...Xana knew she was more than competent and importantly she was intelligent and couldn’t be shaken. “You asked how long we would need; it would be until the end of President Moray’s administration or until the end of your tenure, whichever comes first. Well I’m going up to Versailles, after making a few more stops around here, to hand in my resignation for personal reasons. I just had to be sure.”
If Martine was surprised, it didn’t show in her demeanor or her face. It wasn’t often that one could be given a vote of confidence from someone who knew exactly the position she was in, and she truly appreciated it as such. It was clear that Ms. Bonviva’s priorities had changed, or perhaps they really hadn’t at all. It was only her awareness of them that had shifted. “I hope you find what you’re looking for. Let me be the first to say ‘Thank you’ for your service to the Federation. Bonne chance, Xana.”
=/\=
Scene: Corridor -> Thoris P’Trell’s office
Dahlia and Xana walked down the hall, the two azure females just two of many individuals in the corridors of government. “Mooom.”
“Daaahlia,” Xana replied.
The 9 year old girl curled her lip at that but refused to give into the smile. “What are you doing now?”
“I’m walking down a hallway with my daughter,” Xana winked.
Dahlia exhaled at that. “Really mom.”
The Bolian/Human grinned. Wrapping an arm around her daughter, the politician nodded to some passersbys she said, “And to think soon you’ll have this all to yourself. Well you and your brother and stepfather.”
Dahlia looked up at her mother. “You mean it?”
Xana nodded as she looked down. “I mean it. I need to make some stops today but...that should be it.” Swinging into her old friend’s office she said, “I owe a visit to Secretary P’Trell. Then we need to go up to visit the President. But then I promise we’ll be done.”
As they walked into the Secretary for Interplanetary Affairs, it was hard not to notice how much larger the office it was. The office bustled with aides moving in and out of rooms, their voices just above a whisper as they discussed treaties and negotiations. In the corners of the main waiting room holovids displayed the latest news although everyone was moving at such a pace around the room, hardly anyone ever watched it.
One of the aides who was in a rush from one end to the other stopped and said, “Secretary Bonviva! We didn’t know you’d be coming - we’ll let Secretary P’Trell you’re here.”
Xana nodded as she guided her and Dahlia over to some chairs. Dahlia looked all around at the hustle of the aides, now some of whom were watching *them*. The 9 year old leaned and whispered to her, “Mom, can I ask something?”
“Of course,” Xana whispered back. “What’s up?”
Dahlia never took her gold eyes off the aides who were trying not to stare at the mother and daughter. “Are you really popular? Is that why they’re looking at us?”
Xana inhaled at that, struggling with how to answer that. It was part of the reason why she had chosen to live in Venice all this time rather than Paris - it was easier to shield her children from the press; clearly it worked. Her daughter wasn’t stupid, she knew some of the workings of government but didn’t clearly understand the gravity of her mother’s position or the political implications of it, or what she had done to hold it.
And for that, right now, Xana was tremendously grateful. “I hold an important office, that’s why they’re staring. It’s not because of me personally,” she explained. She didn’t explain that they probably were also staring because they were curious about Dahlia after the kidnapping.
“You can go in,” the aide said.
The two azure females walked into Thoris P’Trell’s office. “Hi Secretary P’Trell!” Dahlia smiled.
His antennae straightened a little in relief. Seeing Xana and her daughter safe and sound was enough to temporarily divert the concerns he had over the investigation into Rawyvin Seth. And he tried to immerse himself in that bit of good news, at least for the moment.
“Hello young Mistress Dahlia,” he said ceremoniously, making the young girl giggle with his formality. Sweeping down in a dignified, stately bow, he rose then and said to his friend, “Secretary Bonviva.”
“Secretary P’Trell,” Xana replied with a nod of her head.
The three of them sat down, as P’Trell offered them drinks and treats. “Mommy, does everyone in Paris drink raspberry lemonade?” Dahlia whispered.
“Yes,” Xana whispered back.
“Good,” Dahlia grinned as she sipped from her glass.
Rolling her eyes at her daughter, Xana then turned back to the Andorian. “So I came to talk to you about something.”
“We don’t have to talk about it now,” he said softly.
The azure woman blinked. “We don’t have much time.”
The Andorian gave her a look but his antennae swayed towards Dahlia. “You think this appropriate?”
“I think we don’t have much time and she’s already heard this,” Xana replied.
“We’re talking about classified information--”
“My resignation is a public matter not classified--”
“--and a formal investigation would have to be launched--”
“--and I would have to give a press conference with Moray and Martine--”
“--there would be hearings with the Federation Council--”
“--*what*?!”
“--*what*?!”
The two friends stared at each other for a full minute before P’Trell got up and gestured for Xana to do the same. Xana turned to her daughter, “Dahlia, please excuse me for a moment?”
Dahlia heaved out a sigh. “Do I get to watch something at least?”
Thoris nodded at that. He turned on the holovid in his office and told Dahlia to make herself comfortable while he guided Xana over to the windowseat at the far end of the room. “What do you mean you’re resigning,” he asked asked in a heated whisper when they got over to the window.
Xana gave him a look. “I need to spend time with my family.”
“That’s what you tell the press,” he said.
“And in this rare case it’s true,” she said. Leveling him with a look she said, “I knew what the odds were of my children coming home safely to me. I’m not squandering that.”
Thoris sat against the window, but his antennae slumped down. “You have your whole career.”
“I’ll be fine,” Xana said. “Beside this is my - what - third career? Fourth? I can always find another.” Giving him a look she asked, “Why were you babbling about hearings?”
Thoris looked down, his antennae mirroring the movement. “I was asked to investigate the children's’ disappearance by Admiral Edgerton.”
Xana sighed. That snivelling British man was persistent, above all else. A complete moob, as Dahlia would say, whatever that meant. “Let me guess. You found some things.”
“There are… questionable things. Uncertainties... even for me, as your friend, to try to understand. But for someone like Edgerton-”
“Grist for the mill,” Xana said glumly. “Then, I am more certain than ever that I made the right decision. Not only for my children and my husband, but for myself. I know what I did and I know why I did it. And I shouldn’t have to explain that to anyone- not even to you. And certainly not to *him*.”
Thoris took no offense to what Xana said. However, he was still worried. “This Rawyvin Seth- he is dangerous. Even if the focus is no longer on you,” P’Trell said, knowing he would do everything in his power to ensure the former Secretary was kept out of the direct aspects of Edgerton’s ruthless game, “...I don’t think I can prevent the rest of the Council into ignoring the damning evidence against him.”
“Even a man of ill character has his moments,” Xana said, thinking of the unusual back and forth she and the fallen former officer had experienced. “But somehow I don’t think he will be surprised with the additional attention.” Besides, it was no longer a battle she had the ammunition to fight with. Maybe one day Seth would understand; maybe he wouldn’t. But it was no longer within her control. Admitting that in her mind helped the last vestiges of her position ebb away from her, peacefully. She was beginning to feel free. “Neither would I,” she added with realization.
“Neither would you what?” The Andorian asked.
“I demand an opportunity to testify on my behalf. In fact, insist upon it,” she said, with a thoughtful look. There was nothing to lose, except the perfect opportunity to express her opinions on the world stage.
“Are you mad?” Thoris looked about as nervous as John Hiram had earlier, the only difference was instead of pacing the pile from the carpet, the Secretary of Interplanetary Affairs was wringing his hands, his antennae shaking wildly. “I would gladly spare you that. Just say the word.”
“The word is ‘no’, Thoris. I want this. I’m asking you to trust me, one last time, for old time’s sake. For friendship’s sake.”
P’Trell took a deep breath and mentally surrendered. “As you wish.” And that was that. “What will you do afterwards? I don’t see retirement as being your permanent vocation.”
Her violet eyes sparkled with something akin to mischief. “I have some thoughts, but they’re best kept to myself right now. But for the immediate future, I’m going to be a mother and a wife to a level so extreme that I hope Jake and the kids grow sick of it. And then I’m going to keep doing it. After that, it’s anyone’s guess. Maybe I’ll write a book.”
=/\=
NRPG: (from Susan) All good things come to those who wait... I’m definitely going to do more joint posting in the future after seeing how much fun it can be! A big shout out to Sarah and Chris for introducing me to this!
A joint post from
Sarah Albertini-Bond
as
Xana Bonviva
and
Christopher B. Del Gesso
as
Thoris P’Trell
Secretary of Interplanetary Relations
and
Susan Ledbetter
as
Marie-Claire Martine
Secretary of Starfleet