Limelight

Posted on Sep 01, 2014 @ 1:50pm by Lieutenant Commander Aerdan Jos
Edited on on Sep 01, 2014 @ 1:50pm

Mission: Absolute Power

"Limelight" (Continued from "Comeuppance")

~*~

Location: San Fransisco, Earth
Stardate: 2.140831.0025
Scene: Officer's Guest Quarters

~*~

Aerdan Jos was dressed to the nines. In a perfectly tailored suit that complimented his complexion, smart trousers, pocket watch and his boots were even spit-shined.

Which meant it was painfully clear to anybody who knew him well that he did not, in fact, dress himself. He sighed as he walked away from his sixth press interview of the afternoon. His feet were sore, and his jaw hurt from smiling at everyone all day. A convincing smile, the smile of a hero who saved a ship full of innocent kids.

A smile that Phia told him had damn well keep in place, if he enjoyed his life and keeping his hide in one piece. And so he played the part she had set out for him. Forced himself to make every public press meeting. Embodied the role as the hero of the Armstrong, the officer who stepped up to save the crew when Harcourt was cruelly killed by horrible opponents of the Federation.

It wasn’t exactly a lie, either. It was a flavor of the truth carefully designed to put the spotlight on one person.

“Why me?” Aerdan had asked as he sat with Phia in the darkened ready room off the Armstrong’s bridge as the ship neared Earth. His antennae dipped slowly to hide in the crest of his snowy hair.

“You seriously need to ask that question?” She rolled her eyes, leaning back in the chair and considering the alcohol that she had stolen from Cade Foster’s quarters that now graced her glass. “I thought you had gained some insight in the years we spent apart.”

“I did…” he protested lightly.

“So you’re whining.” She shot back, ending with a vicious smirk as she sampled Cade’s whiskey. “Damn, this is good. Wonder where he got it?”

“I couldn’t begin to tell you about Cade’s alcohol suppliers.” Aerdan murmured back. “He’s going to find out you took it.”

“So?” She shrugged. “Stop changing the subject.” She poured a generous libation and pushed it over towards the Andorian Commander. “So you already know that this ship was supposed to fail on that mission, and that everyone on board – including you – should be dead, right?”

“Yes.” He replied in a cold tone.

“So, let’s extrapolate, shall we? Someone wanted Harcourt dead. From what I can tell, all the kids were just a bonus. You know, a nice little afterthought if none of them ever came back. And while they got one thing done, someone had to go put a massive monkey wrench in their machinery. And that someone would be you, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart.” Aerdan lisped back.

Phia shook her head. “I’m calling the shots here since I have it on good authority that you want to live. Now listen to me. Basically you’ll have every single asshole in this covert group gunning for you. And so this concept is very simple. I’m gonna get you painted up as the biggest damn hero on this side of the galaxy, and every single random person watching a news feed is going to know all about it. I want everyone to know your face and see your name.”

Aerdan’s face contorted into a mask of horror. “And this helps how?!”

“It means the shadow group won’t come drag you off in the middle of the night. Because people will be looking for you all the time. And if you miss a single appointment everyone will notice and start looking.” She smirked.

“I think this is madness.” He practically squeaked.

The counselor couldn’t keep the smile off her face. There was something intensely enjoyable in watching the privacy-driven introverted neurosurgeon squirm in his chair. She told herself that this was not for her own sadistic amusement, but this was a lifesaving measure. One that would teach him public poise. And one that would be highly entertaining. “I think it is necessary. Or would you like to end up like Rose Harcourt?”

Aerdan frowned deeply and took the entire shot of whiskey in one gulp.

It was good whiskey. She let him keep the bottle.

Now, seven days later, he drug his tired, smiling ass back to his temporary living quarters and made a beeline for that bottle.

“That good, hm?” Zabrielle Liden’s voice was full of teasing concern.

Aerdan said noting. He poured, he drank, and he sank down into the chair, his antennae finally unwinding from their stock-straight position into a sinking slouch that mirrored his own posture. “Six interviews. Two formal meals. And I met over four hundred nameless people.”

The Trill whistled. “You got off easy today. Yesterday it was over a thousand.”

“Don’t remind me.” He murmured, laying his head back against the headrest of the chair. “I can’t do this any more, Z.”

“We’re almost done.” She soothed. “Word should arrive soon on a new posting. Mav said someone would contact us tonight.”

Aerdan shook his head. He was drained. Between feeling watched every second (whether that was paranoid or not) by the big unknown who wanted them all dead, and actually being watched by millions of Federation citizens, he was about ready to find a dark cold hole, crawl inside and hide out for a year or so. “They better.” He murmured.

“How did the inquiry go?” Zabrielle slid over, pouring a second drink for both of them.

“That was the fastest part of the whole day.” The Andorian sighed. “They’re holding a full board of inquiry over that Century thing. So all I did was speak to a few lower brass. No one who rung any bells on the list Phia gave me to be aware of.”

“We got lucky.” She replied, pressing a second drink into his hand.

“Lucky?” Aerdan scoffed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “This is lucky?”

“The Century decloaking above Paris two days before we arrived? Yeah. That took a lot of heat off of us. They barely even investigated how Harcourt died. Everyone is too busy trying to figure out how over half the crew of the Discovery perished.” Dr. Liden sighed. It was a grim truth, but a truth nonetheless.

“That’s not luck. That’s horrible.” He closed his eyes, downing the drink and coughing slightly. “I have got to stop drinking this. It’s starting to go down too easily.”

“I’ll mix you water on the rocks next.” She sassed lightly, sipping her own drink.

Aerdan gave a noncommittal grumble and started staring off into the darkness for long enough that Zabrielle stood and stretched, heading towards the ice bucket to make good on her claim. She was just to the point where the cubes clattered in the glass when she noticed Aerdan sit up, his antennae at full attention.

“What…?”

“Someone’s here…” He hissed.

“Come now, Commander Jos.” A familiar, though unusually boyish voice called out.

“… Drake?” Despite the aching in his limbs, he scrambled to his feet. Seconds later the youthful face appeared from the shadows of the porch and strode calmly through the door, easily bypassing the locks.

“Well that makes me feel secure.” Zabrielle muttered.

“We’re doctors not security people.” Aerdan muttered back. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light he found his breath catch in his throat. The last time he had seen Drake was on Nestis VII and he was not nearly so youthful or vibrant. “Drake…?”

The man waved a hand, the features and even the gestures were unmistakably Drake. “I know, my appearance has altered somewhat, Doctor. Rest assured it is only part of my line of work. I bring tidings from Captain Peter Aspinall.”

“Where is Peter? What is going on?” He moved forward, snowy brows furrowing as he fumbled for elusive answers.

“Peter regrets that he cannot be here. As Mav may have insinuated, he had quite an interesting journey. As for what is going on, Doctor Jos, your counselor was quite right. Dangerous elements are at play in the Federation. You have done quite well keeping yourself in the limelight. Rest assured that yes, it is keeping you safe at night. Though I do believe Phia took some liberties in your schedule to make it as grueling as possible.” Drake indulged in a light smile.

“Why am I not surprised?” Dr. Jos intoned. “How much longer does this last?”

“Not long.” Drake admitted. “In fact, I took the liberty of changing your schedule for tomorrow.”

Aerdan perked a brow. “How, where and why?”

“That leaves out who and what.” Drake kept his tone light. “How was a simple few calls. Where is the Century board of inquiry, and why – I want you to meet your new Captain.”

Aerdan Jos hiked both brows sky high. “New Captain what now?”

“Trust me, he will need you as much as you need him. For you are both in the same boat on the wrong side of the same people.”

“I fail to see how making an alliance works in that regard.” The Andorian returned flatly. “Why put all the people everyone wants to kill conveniently on the same ship? Doesn’t that make one big fat tempting target?”

“Possibly.” Drake shrugged. “But not nearly as bad as having a Captain or a first officer trying to stab a knife in your back.”

Aerdan’s antennae twitched as he reasoned it all through. “I see. He needs someone he can trust and so do I.” He rocked on his feet a little, unwilling to admit that it made sense. “Do I get a name of this mystery man?”

“Does Captain Michael Turlough Kane ring a bell?” Drake asked quite innocently.

Aerdan shook his head. “Heard a little about him. Can’t say I ever met the man.”

“Great. You’ll get along swimmingly, then. Meet me at Starfleet headquarters, 1500 hours. I’ll dislodge you from your media entourage and navigate you through the proceedings.”

“Right. I’ll be there…” He sighed as Drake slipped back to the porch. “Nothing like strange imperatives in the middle of the night.”

“It gets you out of dinner with those crazy French actresses.” Zabrielle grinned.

“I was kinda looking forward to that.” Aerdan proested, only to get a light slap from her.

“You… you were not seriously looking forward to a dinner with some slutty French actresses.” She huffed lightly.

He found himself tinging navy. “Well, no… but I was thinking that I could tease Cade with that for months, and that sort of fodder would be worth it.”

Zabrielle laughed, finally coming to sit on the arm of the chair he had collapsed back into. “All right, point. But I can’t see you with a gaggle of scantily clad ladies. You have enough trouble with me.”

“You make trouble.” He shot back.

“I do.” She returned unapologetically. “I should make some trouble tonight…”

“It’s late, I hurt.” He protested half heartedly. The push and pull began, the verbal sparring. Early in their relationship it had driven Zabrielle crazy, the seemingly constant rejection. And yet she slowly began to read Jos, how he communicated. Cade was right, he was a tough nut to crack, but oh so simple once you knew the tricks.

This was a game.

What started out as a test to see how far they could push one another and still trust the loyalty of the other had become familiar wordplay.

“Endorphine release is the perfect pain relief. Besides, it will help your sleep cycle and you need to be well rested for tomorrow.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Pshaw, not drunk enough. You still look blue.”

“I’m always blue.” His antennae twitched. “I thought you liked blue.”

“Maybe you should convince me why I like blue so much.” She stood from her perch and started drifting away from the porch and his resting spot.

Aerdan dragged himself to his tired feet and followed. “Fine, if you want trouble, you better bring it.”

“And entire dinner full of French actresses sort of trouble?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a challenge I can rise to…”

~*~
NRPG: so, this sets stuff up for meeting important people. I hope to write more tomorrow night. But I told myself that I would get at least part fo what I wrote out tonight!
~*~

Jamie LeBlanc
Lt Commander Aerdan Jos
Currently Unassigned
Starfleet


"Why do we fly? Because we have dreamt of it for so long that we must"


~Julian Beck