Those We Left Behind
Posted on Oct 30, 2014 @ 3:49pm by Captain Siobhan Reardon & Ambassador Xana Bonviva
Edited on on Oct 30, 2014 @ 3:50pm
Mission: The Tangled Webs We Weave
“Those We Left Behind”
(Continued from “Lifeboat”)
=/\=
“But at times I wondered if I had not come a long way to find that what I really sought was something I left behind.”
-Thomas West
=/\=
Location: EARTH, Venice proper
SD: [2.14]1019.2235
Scene: Devil’s Delight Ristorante
Drey Reardon ran his hands through his sandy brown hair as he made his way down the narrow Venetian walkways and boat docks. He wasn’t one to go venturing out on his own, but after finishing his schoolwork early, he had turned on the FedCom news to get more information on the Romulan conflict. Instead, he had learned of the mysterious attack on the former Secretary of Starfleet. The story had been sensationalized for the media, of course, but that didn’t really matter much to the half Supai youth. All he could think about was the hospitality that had been shown to him and his mom, and that it was unacceptable for the children only recently being rescued, to be in danger again.
He turned, entering the restaurant. At first he doubted his sense of direction, but the familiar smells coming from the kitchen convinced him this place belonged to Xana’s family.
“Is Gavi here?” Drey asked the older man at the counter.
Marcus Bonviva eyed the alien youth suspiciously. His skin was a soft green, like the color of pistachio gelato. His earlobes had a delicate ruffled pattern. His eyes were vibrant green, and he had light brown hair. He was about six feet tall, a little taller than Gavi but appearing to be of similar age. “Who are you?”
“Ondrej Reardon- everyone calls me Drey. My mom is friends with your daughter, Ms. Bonviva. I saw what happened to the villa on the news.”
“Does your mom know you’re here?”
“No. She’s an Instructor at the Academy, she’s still working.”
“Why are you here?”
Drey looked at the floor. “I was just concerned for Miss Xana and the kids, Ben and Dahlia. I tried to contact them after the fire but it was like they had disappeared and I thought the worst. I was hoping that by coming here I would find out what happened.”
Marcus looked around. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe the boy; but he likewise knew that safety was not something they could necessarily count on. “I’ll get Gavi.”
It took a few minutes that Drey didn’t know what to do with himself so the Supaian stood around looking at the empty restaurant. Tables were bussed, and set, for the next shift; the bar in the back where Marcus had been, was gleaming. The comm above the bar was set to low but was playing Fed Comm.
Out of the back the double doors that led to the kitchens, came a lanky teenager in chef whites and a neat apron and bright blue clogs. He paused for a minute to talk to Marcus Bonviva; then Marcus went back to the kitchens and Gavi walked over to the bar. Taking over for Marcus, Gavi began wiping down the bar. “Hey Drey,” Gavi smiled. “Want a drink?”
“You’re ok,” Drey exhaled. When Gavi pulled out two glasses and began to pour two flat waters.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Gavi asked not looking up.
Drey took the glass of water but didn’t drink it. “We heard. About the fire.”
Gavi held the glass for a long time...
=/\=
Scene: Devil’s Delight - Kitchen
TI: Night of the fire
Tonight Gavi Bonviva was finally going to have the chance he had been wanting for years.
“Gavi! Where are you with those lobster tails?” Marcus yelled. He might have been his grandson; he might love more than anyone in that room but Marcus was the Head Chef -- affectionately (or not so affectionately depending upon the day) called by his staff “Il Capo”. So tonight, in this room, when Gavi finally had a chance to show his worth as a chef, he was like any other chef on the line.
Love had no place in a kitchen.
The Onaran teenager focused on his plates; the polenta cakes were plated, the zucchini fried now all that was left for Gavi’s first signature plate was the giant lobster tails that were boiling.
“Come on you little suckers,” the teenager muttered. He was desperate to peek into the pot but he knew better, it would just exasperate the situation. Instead he kept the plate warm and moved onto the next item; you had to multi-task in the kitchen.
Gavi would have sworn time stood still, that people were watching. Thankfully he knew betters -- chefs didn’t *care* about other chefs. Finally the time came and he pulled out the giant lobster tails, cracked them open enough to show the glistening meat, poured some melted butter on the dish and called over a server. “Go - go -go,” he ordered, “table 18.” Pushing the Penne Arrabiata that Marcus had already made he said, “This goes with it.”
The server took the items, quietly ducking through the double doors. When Gavi caught his grandfather’s eye, all Marcus said was, “Take another ticket, we’ve got hungry customers.”
But he also noticed that Marcus was trying not to smile and that was enough for now.
This kept going for hours, until they were almost done with the dinner shift; and Gavi got to stay in the Head Chef position. True it was weekday night, so the volume was smaller. He knew it wouldn’t last. But it was his first taste at this, and he was enjoying it.
Suddenly one of the Chef de Plunges came running in through the back door coming in from his break, “There’s a fire at Villa Bonviva! Gavi - there’s a fire at your house!”
Gavi, who had been in the middle of wrestling with some mussels, didn’t register it at first. It was true that Villa Bonviva was technically his home but...on nights when he worked at Devil’s Delight, he didn’t feel like traipsing across the canals so he often just slept in his grandparent’s apartment above the restaurant.
The Onaran cracked a mussel; it was the only thing he could think to do.
Marcus responded first. “Tea,” he called out to one of the other chefs, “take over the mussels. Gavi, you’re--”
“I’m fine,” the teenager responded, shaking his head, his body immobile.
Suddenly his Bolian grandmother, who *never* came into the kitchen, came in with all the commotion of a typhoon waving around her walking stick. “Gavirosh,” she chided, “come with me. We need to find your mother.”
Before Marcus could respond to *that* (Gavi could only imagine how his grandfather would respond to having his perfectly controlled kitchen upended by his wife of 38 years) the comm interrupted them:
[[Incoming emergency communication from B-IX SOLISTICE]]
“Xana!” Marcus exhaled as he went running to his back office. “We were worried about you. Are the kids ok?”
Gavi followed behind his grandfather and could see a small visage of his mother -- she looked frantic; so unlike her normal laughing self or even when she was on the comm ordering people around. {{We’re leaving. Please call the emergency department. The villa is on fire and my call wouldn’t go through. Send Gavi to the SOLSTICE.}}
Gavi listened as his grandfather yelled for his grandmother to call the Emergency line, and then there were questions about Erika, Dahlia and Ben.
But he finally heard his mother yell, {{Papa! Send Gavi *now*! Non ho tempo!}}
Marcus sighed as he looked over to where Gavi wasn’t moving from. He nodded to the spot over by the comm. and got up so the teenager could sit.
The Onaran looked at the azure woman. She wasn’t the Human woman who had found him when he was a little boy; who had coaxed him from a scrawny malnourished nothing into life. She was the woman who gave him a direction on the GATEWAY STATION - she gave him a job at *her* restaurant which was so similar to this one. He spent every day with her, following her around. Then when his Human mom married her, he had no problem taking her name, calling her family.
Still he never actually said the words before now... “Hey Mom,” he said softly. “I’m glad you’re ok.”
Xana Bonviva smiled. In another time and place she would have hugged him for that; she knew what it meant for him to say that. {{I’ll be better when you’re with me.}}
If she was on the B-IX SOLSTICE that meant she was leaving; Gavi understood that. Intellectually he could understand why -- he knew his mother was a target. He knew her husband was a target too; the longer they stayed her then they’d all be targets.
But if they went into space, they’d still be targets, just moving targets. And space on its own, had never been kind to Gavi. There were monsters in the inky black with no name, who would suck you in and torture you...who would rip you up and shoot at you and leave you for dead...at least here on Earth he had a life, a chance.
Yet Gavi looked out on the comm to the only family he ever had, and knew if didn’t go with them or go to BAJOR where his other mother was…
But he couldn’t.
“I can’t,” he said. “I’ll be safe here. But I’ve never safe in space, and I can’t go back. Please don’t make me.”
He saw his mother almost crying then, and the teenager knew then he did that to her; and it broke something inside of him. He wished he could explain about the darkness and the shootings and the fears but he couldn’t. Hell even at this point, he’d even hug his mother, but she was in her ship and he was in a kitchen, so that was out. So all he could do was hold up his hand on a screen and she did the same.
Until the screen went black, then she was gone into the blackness of space too.
=/\=
TI: Now
“Have you heard from your mother?”
Gavi shook his head. Taking a sip of water he looked over at Drey. Holding back everything he just remembered he said, “My mother and my sisters and brother left several days ago.” Putting down the glass he said, “I don’t know where they went to or if they made it. I know my stepfather was broken out of prison but I don’t know if made it to my mother or not.” Shrugging he sighed, “I don’t know where any of them are.”
=/\=
Location: EARTH, San Francisco, SFA
Scene: Classroom
Sio sat at her desk for the first time all afternoon, taking a break. The Romulans’ attack on the Neutral Zone and the subsequent aftermath had turned into a teachable moment for her last class of the day, as they discussed theories of mediation and the techniques associated therein. Admiral Edgerton was on everyone’s lips as well due to the Council’s decision. It gave the seasoned officer the feeling of unease as she reviewed her lesson plans for tomorrow.
She, like so many others, had no idea how far it really went. But she didn’t like Edgerton; that was the one thing she could pin down. Not one iota.
“Commodore Siobhan Reardon-Marxx?” She looked up at the visitor, a little startled.
The man was nondescript to a point. His hair and eyes were an unremarkable shade of brown, and he was neither young nor old, appearing in some sort of nondescript middle age. His voice was distinctive, perhaps the only truly distinctive thing about him, but it was impossible to place the accent. He was an enigma.
She shook her head. “Those were a lifetime ago. It’s Captain Reardon. Who are you?”
The man silently questioned his memories. “Apologies for the error. My name’s Drake.”
“And how can I help you today, Mister Drake?” He was wearing a brown coverall, no insignia, no rank.
“I do come to ask a favor, although it’s a rather large one. And you’re probably only going to believe fifty percent of what I’m about to tell you. I just hope it’s the fifty percent that will allow me into your good graces.”
“Who do you work for?” she queried.
“It’s not really *who* I work for, but *what* I work for. I represent the future of the Federation and Starfleet. It’s a future that has already begun, but there is still time for it to be prevented.”
Sio’s brow furrowed in confusion. The man spoke in riddles. “Do the Romulans defeat us?” she asked.
Drake avoided answering her question directly. He would have to be careful not to say too much. “The Neo-Essentialists defeat the way of life you and countless others hold dear. Within twenty years, maybe less- they will control everything, or what’s left of it,” he said sincerely but dramatically.
The pit of her stomach sank. “Why did you come here to you tell me this? My best years are behind me, just ask Starfleet Command. I doubt I’ll see any action again other than the inside of this classroom.” She hadn’t realized how angry this slight made her until Drake brought up the subject.
“You are lying. You know you are capable of more. Did your brush with the Locusta not teach you anything?”
Siobhan’s cheeks burned with an embarrassed rage. “It taught me that I don’t want to be the pawn anymore. I’m sick of being the damsel in distress. The victim. It took me *years* to believe that my life and my actions were my own, and not some machinations of fate’s puppeteer. And you come waltzing in to tell me that I alone can ‘save the universe’? Provided I follow your advice? Forgive me for feeling just the slightest bit doubtful… and a whole hell of a lot resentful.”
“Not alone,” Drake corrected. “There are others receiving the same message, of a future yet to be, but that has been seen by a handful of us. You are a piece of a much larger puzzle, an ally.”
She had the grace to look chagrined but she continued to press. “Can you provide evidence to prove anything you say is true? If you’re from the future as you claim?”
Drake examined the redhead. Her green eyes were alight with emotion. He knew what she wanted, she wanted some piece of knowledge, something irrefutable. But that was not something he could freely give. “Very soon, you will receive a job offer on behalf of the Federation Council. My request is that you accept that job.”
Sio eyed the man with skepticism. She’d just been yanked back to Earth weeks ago by orders signed off on by Secretary Martine, Xana’s replacement. “What if that doesn’t happen?”
“It means that the timeline may have already been changed by events that have been set in motion.”
“That’s all you can give me to go on?”
Drake looked to Siobhan with a sense of understanding. “A resistance movement is already under way to stop the Neo-Essentialists. But the depth to which they have infiltrated Starfleet is greater than most have realized. The chance that the resistance will actually succeed is still relatively small.”
“And in this new job I’m supposed to have leverage, a way to help them?”
“Our contingent is not sure.”
“So all this for a prayer and a big handful of maybe.”
“You’ve stuck your neck out further with less to go on than that,” Drake said pointedly.
Her mouth drew into a grim line. He was right. “I’m not making any promises, Drake.”
“Understood, Captain. I’ll be on my way. But before I go, Captain Peter Aspinall sends his regards.”
There was a familiarity in the name that Sio recognized as one of her contemporaries. “But he’s been missing in action for years.”
“Has he?” Drake raised an eyebrow and grinned like a rogue. “Until we meet again, Siobhan Reardon.” He turned his back to her and walked away.
“Save the Captain, save the world,” he whispered cryptically to himself.
=/\=
Location: EARTH, Paris
Scene: Secretary of Starfleet’s Office
Time Index: The next morning
“Quelle Imbécile!” the Canadienne exclaimed to noone in particular.
Thoris T’Prell’s antennae retracted a little at MC’s outburst. “You don’t approve?”
“The timing and circumstances couldn’t be worse,” Martine finally said, removing her jacket with a shirk and tossing it on the desk carelessly. It was far too hot for October. Or maybe it was only her temper that made it feel that way.
“*They* approached *Me*. I consider that a hopeful sign.”
“It’s not the ones who sent the ‘invitation’ I have a problem with- it’s our own people.” Marie-Claire rubbed her forehead, pushing at her bobbed pepper-and-salt hair. “Even though it would be classified as diplomatic, the reqs would still fall on Edgerton’s desk. I wouldn’t put it past him to seed the crew with Neo-Essentialists.”
“Are there any loopholes?”
MC regarded the Andorian with a hopeful look. “Maybe. But I don’t want to take too long trying to find one.” She thought of Sardak’s favor, one that she hadn’t had time to think about, much less capitalize on, and wondered if somehow he’d be able to help. “How can you be sure this isn’t a trap?”
“I thought you weren’t concerned about the invitation?”
“Okay, a little,” she relented. “What assurances do you have that this is a legitimate request and not some ruse to further weaken defenses?”
“These people have been known for years to be passive objectors to the status quo of the Empire. If they were using this as a means to hurt us, they’ve been working on it much too long. And, as much as it pains me to say it, My death would not be significant enough to warrant such an elaborate ruse.”
“Edgerton’s made lame ducks out of all of us,” she said, pushing the untouched coffee out of the way.
“I refuse to give Admiral Edgerton the tactical advantage by default.”
“What do you mean?”
“We might not be able to flush out all the Neo-Essentialists, but that does not mean we can’t find some of the officers who aren’t.”
“We’re already working on that,” MC admitted, even though they were still scrambling behind the formidable organizational juggernaut of Edgerton’s office. “Although, I hadn’t thought about applying it to crew selection.”
“That’s because you already launched the PHOENIX. I’m sure you weren’t anticipating needing to send another ship out there.”
“I don’t know that we will be.”
“My hope is that the Secretary reconsiders,” Thoris said with undue formality.
“I’m still considering for the first time,” Martine said. “But I will not be pushed.”
Thoris respectfully changed the subject. “Any word on the disappearance of Xana and the children?”
Martine closed her eyes briefly. “No. There was no evidence to indicate anyone died in the villa fire. We have knowledge that the ship belonging to her, the B-IX SOLSTICE, departed from Venice on a course for BARZAN II. Then, nothing.”
“Any communication from BARZAN II?”
“Only that they weren’t expecting anyone and she never arrived.” The planet was pre-warp , with little natural resources and a climate inhospitable to most life forms. “I’m not certain that was her intended destination.”
“What about wreckage, signs of the vessel being destroyed along the flight path?”
“The ship has vanished into thin air. I can only hope because we can’t find her that means everyone who’s chasing her can’t find her either.”
Thoris’ antennae twitched. “I pray she’s alright. And the children too,” he added. He’d grown fond of the entire family during Xana’s tenure as Secretary.
Martine had quietly risen, and was looking out the window at the fall colors beginning to present themselves in the foliage. She wanted Edgerton to back off. She wanted to give Thoris his diplomacy mission. She needed a distraction, a big one, she thought.
“Rawyvin Seth,” she said out loud.
Thoris immediately looked worried. He still remembered the details of the man’s dossier. “What about him?”
“He’s the answer to all of this,” she said with an excitement that almost frightened her colleague as she went back to her desk and began pulling the file she had on the notorious criminal. “Give me a day or two and I think you’ll have your mission, including Edgerton’s approval.”
“Are you okay?” The skittish Andorian asked.
“Never better.”
=/\=
Location: EARTH, San Francisco, Intel HQ
Scene: Courtyard, Press Conference
Time Index: 6pm that evening
John Hiram paced. It was what he was good at. Some would even say he elevated it to an art form. The Secretary of Starfleet’s office had been a hub of activity as usual, but instead of the business deals and friendly meetings, it had been all about damage control.
With the Romulans’ declaration, and the subsequent equal and opposite reaction from the Federation, Martine was now little more than a figurehead. While she still carried influence, the power that she held behind it was all but gone. If this bothered the Canadienne, she didn’t let it show, instead sticking her heels in further in resolve to see this entire mess through to the end.
It was a short stroke game now. Anything to do with military and offensive resources was under Edgerton’s firm hand. That left a bunch of seemingly useless smaller potatoes for Martine to work with and see what she could manipulate. Even with the control Edgerton now had, it would be impossible to question everything lest he want to draw undue attention to himself. So, MC decided to make a move that would completely charm and disarm him… if he took the bait.
Martine took the podium that had been hastily assembled in the courtyard of SFI. She could feel the temporary piece of furniture wobble each time she pushed it to the right. She spent the next few minutes carefully trying to avoid doing that as she gave what she considered a glorified press release.
“Thank you for your participation today,” she said to the assemblage of reporters. Even though they had been prepped beforehand and told that there would be no question and answer session for this meeting, the majority of them had stayed anyway, not wanting to miss out of anything no matter how little opportunity there was for a bonafide scoop.
Martine scanned the crowd, looking for Alek Nikitin, and found herself concerned when she didn’t see him. Reports were still trickling in from FedCom with his byline, but most of them were audio only. She secretly wondered how he was doing with the investigation into Bonnie Reardon’s murder- it couldn’t be going too well if he was in hiding.
Images appeared behind her on large monitors set up just for this purpose. They had gathered quite the dossier on the ebony haired man and his criminal dealings, but it had been some time, if ever, that his actions had been put on such a high profile display.
“This man is Rawyvin Seth, once a Lieutenant JG in Starfleet, before he went rogue some ten years ago. He is still at large, but in light of recent developments it was thought best that his information be broadcast to the largest audience possible in an attempt to apprehend him.”
The cameras panned in on the images of a brooding man with black hair and silver eyes taken at various times and at various locations. His bangs routinely masked the intentions of his gaze. Shady couldn’t begin to describe him.
“Make no mistake, this man is a dangerous criminal. The charges against him are extensive. He is currently being sought on two-hundred twenty-two offenses, including first-degree murder. He is to be considered armed, dangerous, and a psychopath. Warrants and calls for his death or arrest have also been filed by the Klingon and Romulan Empires, amongst others.”
“This information is not new by any means. However, recent events have come to light pointing towards a conspiracy within Starfleet that point towards a once high-ranking official. It is the assertion of my office that although his own record is of considerable reproach, the information he holds about the dealings among our own organization is paramount. And to that end I have decided to go public with this, in the event that anyone come into contact with this man and bring him in safely, so that we may once and for all rid ourselves of the doubts that linger about our operations. I don’t need to remind you of the importance that we stand united against any threats, whether they be internal or otherworldly. Rawyvin Seth is a person of interest, a material witness in this case and he must be brought in alive.”
And with that, she walked away, leaving the podium empty, the reporters scrambling to communicate this to the rest of the world, and a very worried Hiram. “What was that?” he asked.
Martine glanced at her assistant, while rushing to get the hell out of there. “Bait.”
=/\=
Location: EARTH, Paris
Scene: Edgerton’s Office
Time Index: The next morning, 8:30am sharp
“Secretary Martine is here to see you, sir,” his assistant announced with an air of confusion. “She mentioned something about a meeting?”
Edgerton looked up from the daily report, removing his glasses. “Yes, I requested one. Show her in, Leonard,”
“With all due respect, she’s the *enemy*.”
Edgerton’s lips curled into a snarling smile. “I think she may finally be turning to our side. But your concern is duly noted. Show her in.”
He straightened the few items on his desk as she was ushered in.
“Good morning, Richard,” she said warmly.
“Good morning, Madam Sec-” he looked up, not expecting the colorful creature who had entered his office.
The skirt of her burgundy dress flowed away from her body as she walked, while the bodice hugged her slight figure. “Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule.”
“You look… lovely.” He had thought he was going to have to throw a compliment at her like a bone to a dog, for the sake of niceties, but he found himself believing his words. Had she changed her hair?
She smiled with lips nearly the same deep red as the dress. “Thank you, Richard. It is a bright new autumn day. Even the leaves are changing.” She pressed her freshly manicured nails into her wrist to remind herself to be on her best behavior.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“Kir royale, s’il vous plait,” she practically purred to him.
“Isn’t it a bit early for that, Madam-”
She immediately got up. “Please, enough formality. Call me Marie-Claire. It’s okay, I’ll get it. I assume black coffee for you?”
“Yes. I imagine you’re wondering why I requested to see you.”
She carefully walked on the new oxblood leather heels as she brought a tray over from the replicator, containing her frivolous beverage and a carafe of strong coffee along with a mug. “I was intrigued,” she said coyly, taking a sip from the tall flute of champagne and crème de cassis.
“Your press conference yesterday was very enlightening, Marie-Claire,” he began as she watched him with eager blue eyes. “I began to think I might have misjudged you.”
“I feel the same way about you, Richard,” she somehow responded without gagging. “I suppose that happens when one has time to reconsider one’s actions.”
“It was a pity you couldn’t have reached that conclusion before the launch of the PHOENIX,” he said with disdain.
She downed the rest of her drink and walked behind Edgerton, massaging his shoulders. “I know it hasn’t always been... *cordial* between us, and I apologize for my part in that.” MC then leaned in, letting her hair touch the side of his face. “Well, in addition to trying to bring *certain people* to justice, I have another peace offering.”
“What could *you* possibly offer me?” He rather enjoyed this attention as he studied her surprisingly soft hair. Yes, it was definitely richer somehow.
She laughed, placing her finger on his lips. “Secretary T’Prell’s been asking too many questions. What if I could get him to ‘disappear’ for a little while?”
That statement, and the wafting scent of jasmine from her perfume caught his attention. “What do you suggest?”
“There’s a small group of Romulans who want to open a peace accord. I think it’s une perte totale, une cause perdue, but it would be an excellent diversion.”
“And you trust these Romulans to be true to their word? After they attacked the Neutral Zone?”
Martine grinned like a Cheshire Cat, turning the opposite way that Edgerton was seated in his chair, sitting on the desk, dangerously close to him, folding her arms across the tight-fitting top of her dress, and leaning in. “Wouldn’t it be a shame if they weren’t? They might harm the negotiations team, including Mister T’Prell. Wouldn’t that be simply awful?”
Edgerton matched her smile. “I see your point.”
“I can take care of all the details,” she cooed, reassuring him, tracing a finger along his chin., then preparing to leave. “I know you have more important work to do with the front lines. He’ll be out of your way soon enough.”
“Thank you, Marie-Claire,” Edgerton said, flattered. “Feel free to let me know if there are any more of these ‘matters’ to discuss.”
“My pleasure, Richard,” she responded in kind. “Our methods may not be the same, but it’s nice to know we agree about putting the interests of the Federation first.”
“What?” he asked softly, unsure about the context of what he had just heard.
MC flashed another sickeningly sweet smile, ignoring him and her double entendre. “Have a wonderful day, Richard.”
=/\=
A Joint Post by
Sarah Albertini-Bond
and
Susan Ledbetter
Marie-Claire Martine
Secretary of Starfleet
Captain Siobhan Reardon
Currently Unassigned