Bide
Posted on Jul 13, 2016 @ 1:32am by Lieutenant Eve Dalziel
Edited on on Jul 13, 2016 @ 1:32am
Mission: Fortress: Earth
“Bide”
(Continued from “Not Enough Time”)
=/\=
The last time I saw Paris, her heart was warm and gay
No matter how they change her, I'll remember her that way
I'll think of happy hours, and people who shared them
Old women, selling flowers, in markets at dawn
Children who applauded, Punch and Judy in the park
And those who danced at night and kept our Paris bright
Till the town went dark
“The Last Time I Saw Paris”, lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein
=/\=
Location: USS ZHUKOV
SD: [2.16]0705.2300
Scene: Bridge
Time Index: Just before “Not Enough Time”
Jonah Britt chewed on a half of a Vegemite sandwich he had brought with him at the beginning of Alpha Shift. Stopping hunger wasn’t the main goal; he needed something to soak up the acidity of all the coffee. Speaking of which, he took another gulp of the steaming liquid from a large cup to the left of the center seat. Stimulants were quicker, but overrated.
As the hours ticked by, he felt more and more at ease with Captain Reardon’s decision to send him and Naamah off the Bridge for the previous shift. He didn’t always agree with her tactics, but it was clear that her instincts regarding people were still as sharp as ever.
“Commander, there’s some activity within the Aegis shield network.”
Jonah stood and moved closer to the forward station where Ensign L’enoa had reported from. “I need details,” he snapped. “What’s going on?” The next meeting with Edgerton was taking place right now. Could he finally have decided to surrender?
“It’s a power surge. One of the satellites is preparing to discharge.” The Deltan’s voice wavered as she spoke.
“Yellow alert,” Britt called out after a slight hesitation. The ship was trimmed in amber light. He looked towards the Operations station. “Contact the Demeter. *Now*.”
“The w-weapon has fired,” L’enoa said weakly. Her hand was shaking.
The ExO’s blue eyes wide with disbelief. He could see the entire crew tensing up and tried to diffuse the impossible situation. “I need you to find the target of that shot, Ensign,” he prodded gently. “I’m staying right here until you do.”
The Deltan woman steadied herself and flipped the controls with precision, trying to circumvent her emotions and rely on the training that got her there. “Northern hemisphere… western European continent.” She made a sharp gasping sound. “It’s Paris... sir. Aegis has razed Paris.”
Jonah smacked the console with his hand as the rest of the Bridge fell silent. He turned around and slowly walked back to the center seat, not so much sitting down as allowing his body to fall into it.
“Sorry for the delay, Sir. I’m getting the Demeter now,” a nerved voice came from the upper tier. Lieutenant Larssen hit the wrong button, causing the heightened cacophany of subspace to fill the Bridge for a few agonizing moments. It was the equivalent of a collective scream. Then the viewscreen was filled with the Bridge of the other ship.
“Commander Britt of the Zhukov. What’s going on over there? Why was Paris destroyed?”
{{This is Lieutenant Commander Alexander of the USS Demeter. How can I-}} The representative of the Council ship looked much younger than his thirty-two years and completely overwhelmed.
The Australian Trill became incensed. “Didn’t you hear me? I asked you a bloody question!”
{{President Sardak and the others are still in their meeting, Commander. I’m sorry… I don’t know what happened.}} He looked like he was about to either cry or faint.
Britt sighed. Cooler heads might prevail, if there were any left. “Awaiting a response then, as I’m sure we all are. Zhukov out.”
Commander Britt waited a few seconds for the transmission to close, the shadow of loss continuing to fall across his face. “Wake the Captain.”
=/\=
Location: USS PHOENIX
Scene: Dalziel’s Office
Time Index: Present
Eve had gone through the entire briefing and the walk back to her office without uttering a word. It was almost like she hadn’t been there. Edgerton had done it. He’d obliterated the Capital. And they were so very close, but couldn’t touch him. Her baser instincts made her want to dip his feet in Thalaron-b and hang him upside down, allowing the particles to eat him alive from bottom to top. And even then she wondered if that was too good for him. The law dictated that he be made to stand for his crimes, and be imprisoned under high security for the rest of his days, to consider his crimes against humanity. But could his addled mind ever feel remorse or guilt? She doubted it.
She felt completely useless. The infrastructure of Starfleet was in shambles. Any attempts to go planetside for information weren’t going to pan out. Dallas’ response from the field, that he was on assignment and wasn’t privy to the design process of the Aegis, wasn’t very helpful. There was only one other place to go: outside.
She sat at her desk, typing a short plea for help and then tapping into the vast bitter soup of subspace for something to garner a little attention. FedNews was glossing over the issue with propaganda and spoke of protection against the rebel forces and a forced attack, even as their on-air personalities and crew were being mourned. If she was going to get the cooperation of her out-of-the-way source, that wasn’t going to do it. But there was also a transmission from the Phoenix. It was Aleksey Nikitin, using the old FedCom byline and the former agency’s commitment to truth. She had honestly forgotten the reporter was on board. She thanked him silently, attached the story to her request, and sent it.
She hadn’t noticed that Xander had entered with a tea tray and some food. “Are you alright?” he asked.
They shared a look which could best be described as a weary resignation. “No,” she finally said.
“That’s okay, neither am I.” The aCns poured the hot tea. Eve could smell the bergamot with its pungent, citrusy notes. “One lump or two?” he asked her.
“Three.” She got up from her chair and went over to the replicator.
“I’ve already got milk.”
“No. I need something... stronger.” She brought over a small flask of brandy and poured a splash into her cup. “And you?”
“Yes please,” Elgin said.
“Where’s Owen?” she asked, taking a sip of tea and feeling the tingling warmth that spread from her throat toward her extremities.
“He’s checking the crew records to see if there are any personnel that might be directly affected by what happened. Are your parents okay?” he asked with reverence.
“I assume so. San Francisco is their home. But if Edgerton was so willing to destroy the seat of government, could the military center be far behind?”
Kass’ nephew tried to respond amicably, but even he had his limits. “I wouldn’t put anything past his sorry ass.”
Eve’s door swooshed open and Owen Arion stuck his head in. “You have an incoming transmission from the USS SUMTER. The Captain wants to speak to you.”
“About??” she asked, but her console activated and Owen dodged back out of the room before she got an answer. {{Lieutenant Dalziel?}}
Eve motioned across her desk for Lysander to stay while regarding the strangely dressed older man. Was that pirate regalia? “Yes, that’s me. And this is the Captain of the Sumter?”
{{Captain Sylvester Kinderman, milady.}}
“Well met, Captain,” she found herself responding. “Mister Arion stated you needed to talk to me?”
He took off his plumed hat and tucked it under his arm. {{You were once an Intel officer, correct, Lieutenant?}}
“At the beginning of my career I was,” she admitted. “And given the recent change in political climate, I’ve needed to reactivate my status.”
The older man hung his head, respectful of the nearly infinite loss they had suffered. {{The Sumter’s been assisting in clearing the planetary orbit of any civilian or merchant vessels using any means necessary.}}
“I don’t see a plank from where I’m sitting, Captain Kinderman, so I trust you’ve been making use of the more modern technology?”
It almost looked like he was winking at her. {{Aye, lass. We had a small craft known as GRABTHAR’S HAMMER refuse to vacate the vicinity, nearly setting off the Aegis shield. We employed a tractor beam and brought the vessel to safety. Upon examination and questioning of the crew, we found one man claiming to be a Starfleet officer on an undercover assignment. He said you could vouch for him.}}
A flicker of recognition formed on her face. “This wouldn’t be one Commander Marshall Smith, would it?”
{{Aye, the very same.}}
“I’ll be damned.”
Sly’s chest puffed up with pride and perhaps a little mischief. {{I’ve got either some guest quarters or a nice cell waiting for him depending on your answer.}}
Eve looked across her desk and noticed that Lysander was leaning forward, rapt with attention. “He is who he says he is, Captain. I had recently reached out to him with the hopes that he’d help us decipher the makeup of the shield configuration. But he advised me he was on a mission unrelated to the Neo-Essentialists. So naturally I assumed he wasn’t nearby.”
{{Understood, Miss. He was trying to bring in the vessel to a rendezvous point and have the remaining crew apprehended. None of us counted on the scurvy bastard known as Edgerton.}}
“No, we didn’t.” She paused to think. “How is Marsh?”
{{The craft was taken peaceably and no one on the crew came to any harm. I’d say the worst they are is underfed and underslept.}}
“Thanks for taking stewardship of the situation at hand, Captain Kinderman. I’m sure he appreciates it, too. I’ll have to make a point to catch up with him a little later.”
Sly nodded. He knew they were all busy. {{I’ll take my leave for now. Best of luck in your pursuits, Lieutenant.}} The screen blinked back to the standard Starfleet insignia.
“He looked like Greybeard. Certainly not regulation,” Lysander observed.
“Unique. But I wouldn’t mind a sharp sword and a crow’s nest to swing down right now.”
Asta’s twin looked a little surprised. “I never fancied you being the renegade type.”
“And I never thought part of the Federation would turn against us.”
=/\=
Location: USS CENTURY
Scene: CO’s Ready Room
Siobhan had expected the door to be locked, so it threw her off guard when the entrance easily parted and allowed her access. She took a deep breath like she was surfacing from an underwater dive. The room hadn’t changed much in the years since she’d seen it last. Memories lingered like haze. But her eyes were sad and hard, feeling the bitter in the sweet.
Dex was sitting behind the desk, head down, arms bent, fingers steepled. She couldn’t tell if he was praying or thinking, or none of the above. He looked up, his rugged face a mask of apathy. His painful expression slapped at her. Then, his head went back down and his hand motioned for her to leave. “Not now, Sio. Maybe later. But not now.”
“I respectfully disagree. I have the right to know what happened in that meeting on the Demeter.”
“I’ll bet Kane put you up to this.”
She slid into the chair opposite him. “Does it matter so much why I’m here?”
“It wouldn’t, except I know you two are playing a game of ‘babysit the unstable alien’.”
“I don’t consider you either of those things, Dex,” she said evenly. “And I *don’t* play games.”
For the first time since she arrived, he looked at her and saw *her*, rather than the phantom images of people dissolving into irradiated ash. He stood and walked towards the couch, low slung table, and the transparent aluminum windows. “You’re right. You don’t. But you can stop trying to hide your feelings from me.”
“My feelings aren’t important. What took place at the meeting earlier?”
Marxx seemed to be practicing selective listening. “Ugh, again with that. You’ve been brainwashed. Did you know your body heat rises when you’re angry?”
Reardon placed her hands in her lap, trying not to fidget. “No, I didn’t.”
He came back over to her and held his hands a few inches away from her shoulders. “I can feel it.”
She shivered under the thought of his touch. “Dex-”
“And your eyes.”
“What happened with Edgerton?” she asked perfunctorily.
“Your eyes turn the brightest shade of green when you’re mad.” His large, rough hands caressed her cheek as he studied the static in those wild emerald eyes. “This would be a lot easier if you would just admit it.”
“Admit what?”
“That you’re angry.”
She stood up, pushing him away. “Of course I’m angry! Millions of people are dead and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it! You have to tell me what he did!” She’d immediately passed the point of impassioned talking and gone straight into yelling.
“It wasn’t him- it was me! It was my attempt to get Edgerton to surrender, my pride, that caused him to target Paris. All those people-” his voice collapsed in his throat.
“No!” she exclaimed. Her voice was uncharacteristically shrill.
“No what?”
“I refuse to let you take the blame for this, Dexter Juraj Marxx.”
“You *don’t* understand. You don’t *let* anything. I’m taking responsibility.”
“What do I need to do to get through to you? You were manipulated.”
“I should have seen it… like all the other workings of that man. He’s been one step ahead of us the entire time.”
“Exactly, one step ahead of *us*. The fleet.”
“I am the leader of this charge.”
“Then *lead* us!” she cried, her hands clenched in frustration.
Dex looked puzzled. “That’s what I’m trying to do!”
“A *leader* wouldn’t let the actions of a madman become his responsibility. A *leader* wouldn’t blame himself. A *leader* wouldn’t hide in his office while the rest of the fleet is waiting for him to make a statement. To show that we can overcome this tragedy.”
“Overcome?! It’s impossible! Edgerton has all the cards, Sio! *All* of them! All we hold onto is the bodies of the dead.” The large man became quiet. “Or we could choose to leave.”
“The fleet could withdraw?”
“No. The two of us, we could go.” He embraced her, and she let his head rest on her shoulders.
“Go where?”
“Back to Vega IV. We could forget about all of this. Start a new life together. The life we should have had. A life we could still have.”
“No, Dex, no. That’s not the answer.”
He didn’t want to admit the truth. “Why not?”
She looked up at him through tears. “I don’t want to forget.”
“And I don’t want to remember.” It was almost a whisper.
“Come. Sit.” She went over to the sofa.
“I’m too old for this,” he grumbled but did as she asked.
Siobhan clung to his arm and hand, leaning on him as she spoke. “Do you understand why I don’t want to forget? Every step I take towards the end of this is fueled with every injustice he perpetrated against the people of the Federation.”
“I can’t forgive myself.”
“But you *have* to. Nobody should have to carry that around with them the rest of their life.” She was crying again.
“Tell that to the millions and millions who are gone. And their families if any of them are left.”
“Let me be your cage.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t want to let your emotions go because they’re so terrible you don’t think you’ll ever get control back.”
His face contorted. “Stop.”
“That you won’t be able to stop yourself from doing the wrong thing or something rash and unplanned.”
“By the All-Father, no.” His voice broke.
“But I can take it. Let me be this for you. You can trust me, Dex. I swear it.”
Green eyes bored into violet. Marxx’s face was aghast. She pulled him close, allowing him to lean into her, and he submitted. He gasped, sobbed, and shook. He breathed. There were times he was like a rag doll in her arms, and other times he clung to her like he was squeezing the very life out of her. Their bodies rocked back and forth, then they were still. They trembled. She kept her eyes closed, trying to feel the beat of his heart and the warmth of his skin against hers. She wept, her purpose singular and clear, nothing else remotely important.
Somewhat later, Sio felt their breathing flowing in tandem. She opened her eyes, the light in the ready room stinging them a little. Dex had raised his head and was watching her silently. “Hi.”
“Hi yourself,” she replied awkwardly.
Dex stood like a newborn colt. “I need… water. You?”
“Sure.”
He brought two chilled glasses. “There’s one more thing I need,” Sio said, drinking half of the glass in one go.
“What?”
“Patience and time. Kane’s trying to find a way to work around the shield. But he needs time. And you need to be patient enough to know waiting is not a sign of weakness or capitulation to Edgerton.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know,” she said, pushing a strand of hair away from her forehead. “That’s the patience part.”
=/\=
Location: USS PHOENIX
Scene: Dalziel’s Office
Eve read through the statement for the third time. The goal was to advise each department head to identify signs of grief, depression, or unusual emotional outbursts due to what had happened on the planet below, and get their people Counselling help as quickly as possible. Shock wasn’t necessarily a bad place to work from, but shock and stress could easily give way to rage, irrational behaviors, and a general lack of attentiveness. With the Neo-Essentialists breathing down their necks, this was absolutely the worst time to be ineffective.
[[Looks like someone I know is pretty popular today.]] Lysander’s crisp, polite voice toned through the intercom.
The dark haired woman caught herself having a hopeful thought in the midst of Elgin’s interruption. It had been a few hours since her Hail Mary to the far reaches of the Alpha Quadrant “Is this Kinderman again?” she asked haltingly.
[[This one’s from Cardassia Prime. Can I watch?]]
“Sorry, no- this one’s going to be a bit... prickly.”
[[As you wish.]] He sounded faintly disappointed. [[Sending him over.]]
Jori Langor’s apprehensive face filled the previously inactive comm link. Even from a distance and through a grainy screen, he looked larger than life. The passage of time had only served to heighten the distinction and carriage he had.
“Mister Langor. Thank you for accepting my call. I’m contacting you on a most urgent matter.”
The one time Vice President of the Federation Council was still trying to digest the communiqué she had attached outlining the destruction of Paris at the hands of Richard Edgerton. He looked haggard. {{I can see that. Who did you say you were again, Lieutenant?}}
“Eve Dalziel, currently assigned to the Phoenix as the Counsellor. But it’s an Intel matter that I require your assistance with.”
{{Certainly. What would you like to know about Edgerton?}}
“I’m not interested in a portrait of a madman. He’s a ruthless sociopath.”
{{Then why contact me?}}
“About eight years ago you promised a favor to a young Cardassian woman named Gevilla Corat. I’m asking for that favor now.”
Langor remembered… and bristled. {{What right do you have?}}
Eve stared at him, unflinching. “We were at Campaign Headquarters less than a week after the attack on your family. To this day I don’t know why, but you confided in me. You told me you knew your wife had been unfaithful, because only a few people in your inner circle knew you were physically unable to father a child. And Selain was not one of them. I asked you why you wouldn’t divorce her. You gave me two reasons. The first was that your chances for election were much greater as a ‘happily’ married man. The other reason was that even though the boy was not yours genetically, he was your son in every other way, and that he had brought you a joy and a peace you hadn’t had since before you served.”
Her calm words blossomed in the man’s mind. {{He still does,}} Jori said solemnly. His office had been his personal sanctum, and the chances that anyone else besides the two people in that room would know of that conversation was improbable. He struggled to see that this woman and Gevilla were one and the same. But that was the only logical conclusion. {{Then what happened?}} he asked, toying with her.
She broke her stare as embarrassment crept in. “You kissed me.”
Langor laughed; a quiet, brittle laugh. {{It *is* you.”}}
“I thought I would have to work harder to convince you,” Eve declared.
{{I’d say humiliating a former high ranking official is some pretty difficult work.}}
She demurred again. “The last thing I wish to do is humiliate you, Sir. I need your help.”
{{If not to profile Richard Edgerton, then with what?}}
“You gathered quite a dossier on your opponent for the office of Federation Liaison to Cardassia. For the most part, the polls were going your way so it was agreed not to use them. In particular, he was working on battle technology extrapolated from his own wartime experience.” Their discussion was already encrypted in both directions, but there were too many unknowns out there to go into much more detail.
{{He was a crackpot, Lieutenant. It wasn’t worth releasing to the media or to the public.}}
“The media machine would have had a field day with it and you know it. Anyway, I’d like the ciphered files sent to me on the Phoenix regarding his experiments. That’s my favor.” She wanted to give Crichton, Varn, and the others a fighting chance at creating something that could phase them through the shield blockade. There was a mix of Cardassian and Borg information, and with any luck they would find a way to mimic the artifact’s abilities in that.
Jori Langor shook his head. {{Latinum would have been more practical.}}
“We have to stop at nothing to defeat Edgerton. If he manages to close off Earth, it’s only a matter of time before everyone feels it. Even you… and your son. Is that the kind of universe you want him growing up in?”
{{Of course not. It’s a deal.}} Her console made a few modulated noises signifying the information had been transferred. {{Will you keep me advised of any progress?}}
“Of course. I hope it will be Edgerton’s mug shot.”
Jori’s voice grew quieter. {{You’re right about him being ruthless. But he’s also arrogant, and growing desperate. If you can bide enough time, you can take advantage of that.}}
“Thank you.”
{{If there is anything else… you have my cooperation.}}
“Pakariy malinzayn ça’ada. I hope we don’t need it.”
=/\=
Susan Ledbetter
Lieutenant Eve Dalziel
Cns
USS PHOENIX
Captain Siobhan Reardon
CO
USS ZHUKOV
