Of Vacuums and Spaces

Posted on May 26, 2014 @ 5:53pm by Ambassador Xana Bonviva
Edited on on Jun 05, 2014 @ 8:34am

Mission: The Tangled Webs We Weave
Location: Various
Tags: Xana, Phia, Family

Of Vacuums and Spaces
cont'd from “The Burn”

=/\=

Location: EARTH
Stardate: [2.140410.2330]
Scene: Paris – Secretary to SF Office

“He did what?”

The aides looked at each other before looking back at their boss – the Secretary of Starfleet. The position of Secretary to SF was a new one – or an old one depending upon your point of view. It was a position modeled after the Secretary of Defense or Defense Minister; a civilian position appointed by a President and with consent of the a governing body. A position that had the authority and control over the Starfleet and made the aforementioned Secretary the principal assistant to the President of Federation in all matters relating to the Starfleet. This was meant to streamline activities so that the President and Federation Council didn't have 20 different Admirals running to them, with their own agendas and positions. All those flag officers and department-heads could go running to the Secretary of SF and that Secretary could assemble the information, analyze, and advise the Federation Council and President accordingly; set direction for the fleet so they could.

It was a fine model. Except when it broke; which was now.

The Chief of Staff for the Secretary – John Hiram stepped forward with a PADD. “Here's the info.”

Xana Bonviva took it. Then she looked out the window lost in thoughts. When she was like this the staff knew better than to interrupt. Later they would wonder what she was thinking about – maybe it was what she'd say if the President asked her. Maybe she was planning her next press move. Maybe her next snack (she did eat a lot).

If they ever asked – and if she ever answered honestly – she'd say she was digging deep to her darkest days...to the days on the MCINNIS, when she was CO after her first husband's death. To those days when she had to hold it together (and even then that was a tall order) and go chasing after the Dominion while grieving and try to be a mother for a toddler.

She didn't make it. But that was another story.

On the days when she had to make the hard calls, she briefly dug deep and that was one of the places she went to. If only to remind herself, that this could be no worse that that.

“Make the call,” she ordered.

Within moments most of the staff had left except for a chosen few.

{{Secretary Bonviva...}}

“Admiral Edgeton,” Xana Bonviva smiled. “I'm so glad to have caught you.”

{{For you, Madame Secretary, of course. What do I owe the pleasure?}}

Xana leaned back and watched the slick Admiral. He was what her late grandmother would have called a used-shuttle salesman, except less charming. Or maybe too charming, Xana couldn't put her finger on it, and that was concerning. “I'm worried about you,” she said, with her best motherly smile. “A fabulous office for you on EARTH and you're on a drafty hotel on LUNA.”

{{It's not drafty,}} Edgeton assured her with a wave of his spindly hands.

“Still the 'Fleet has its protocols, and one of which is that Admirals unless assigned to a ship or base--”

{{I feel claustrophobic on EARTH.}}

“Well then it's a good thing that the office is in Paris and not San Francisco,” Xana smiled. Seemingly switching topics she asked, “So how is my old friend, Michael Turlough Kane?”

Edgeton paused, blinking his eyes. Clearly he was not expecting this turn of events. He was neither upset nor dismayed, merely contemplating the next several moves while figuring how this one got away. He held his hands up in front of him as if praying until he hit upon it. {{GATEWAY.}}

“Everyone goes through there,” Bonviva nodded.

{{Funny how he didn't mention *you*,}} the Admiral pointed out.

The Secretary made some “tsk-ing” sounds. “Forgetting a lady? What bad manners. You know what's worse? When an Admiral goes about reinstating a Captain without going through proper channels.”

Cats ate canaries, sharks loved blood, and Edgeton was too smug for his own good. {{It's within my rights, and you know it.}}

“How?” Here Xana did lose her cool. “There's a list of up and coming officers who were next for CO and you pulled Kane out of BFE. How is that within your right?”

{{Admirals have always had leniency, especially in...interesting times.}}

“We're not at war which is the provision you're obliquely trying to refer to,” the Secretary pointed out. Shaking her head so that her white hair slipped a bit from the white twist, Xana gambled. The bit with Kane was Edgeton's most blatant but she guessed it wasn't his first time. “I know this isn't the first time you've done this. You keep trying me and you will be tried.”

Edgeton smiled at that. {{Are you trying to send me a message?}}

“Perhaps.”

{{Which is?}}

“That stubbornness is far costlier than obedience.”

That damnable smile... {{Goodbye Secretary Bonviva.}}

As the screen faded and the symbol of Starfleet came back up, Xana leaned back in her seat and muttered, “Why does everything have to be a struggle? Can't some people just do what I want?”

=/\=

Location:Venice, Italy – EARTH
Scene: Bonviva Villa

TI: That night

Chaos.

For all that there were rules in her office, at home there were very few rules. It wasn't that she didn't want rules. Oh no, Xana Bonviva *desperately* wanted rules at home. However, as the lone adult facing 1 – 11 year old dog, 1 – 9 year old girl, 1 – 6 year old targ and 1 – 4 year old boy rules often were a “suggested” thing.

“He's doing it again!” Dahlia flipped her blonde hair as she glared at her younger brother. Dashing to the other side of the table she yelled. “Get that thing away from me.”

“This is my pet,” Benito Bonviva-Crichton announced while waving a slug in the air as he went running after his sister. While doing laps around the dining room table he tried every so often to make eye contact with his mother. “You have Angus and Dahlia has Taz. Why can't I have a pet?” he asked referring to the dog and targ.

At this point, Taz, fairly active if annoying Targ, was joining the chase. Angus, as Xana's elderly dog, didn't join in the running like he used to but he stood up, watching in case he was needed.

“Benito, slugs go in the garden. Dahlia, stop running – you're just encouraging him,” Xana announced. When her son just gave her a look she announced in her best “deck voice” to her son, “Garden. Now.” To her daughter she said, “Help him.”

It was a voice that had commanded many – Fleet and Civilian. She had used it in giving orders in war and in rallying people to a wayward cause. If she had a best feature in terms of her political career – this was it.

And it was absolutely useless when it came to her children. Benito was chasing Dahlia, Dahlia was alternately running away and egging on her brother and the animals were getting involved.

No one was listening to her; and Xana never dealt well with that.

So she had to resort to more drastic measures. Sticking two fingers in her mouth Xana let out an ear-piercing whistle that had Angus howling, Taz grunting and digging into the carpet, Benito stopping short and sliding into the wall and Dahlia went crashing into her brother.

After the chorus of “Ow” and “She hurt me” and “Get off me” Xana finally got her kids sorted out and the aforementioned slug out to the garden. Finally she got her kids to sit down to dinner and eating (she comforted herself that the mushroom pizza was both quick and counted as nutritious as it had a vegetable). As she listened to her kids tease each other, her son tell her about his day at pre-school and her daughter launch into a story about her soccer game; and Xana sat back for a minute and smiled. They really loved each other, and for a moment she just enjoyed the night.

“Mama?” Benito asked. “Did you hear me?”

“No,” Xana smiled at her youngest. “I was thinking about something.”

“Something for me?” her son grinned, not at all subtle.

“Please say 'no', please say 'no',” Dahlia muttered while burying a grin as she ate her pizza.

The Secretary of SF gave a look to her eldest. “Well this is about all of us.” Motioning for her son to keep eating, Xana took a sip of her water before saying with a smile, “Benito, your father; Dahlia, your stepfather, is coming home.”

The table got quiet. Both kids stopped eating and just stared at her; hells, even the dog and targ stopped eating.

Surprisingly Dahlia responded first. “Jake...? Jake is coming home?” The 9 year old stared at her mother as if she had lost all her white hair in one fell swoop.

Whatever else she felt, however else confused she was about her relationship there were two things she focused on tonight. First she was a mother. And second, Xana knew that Jake did love Dahlia and Benito. So the smile Xana gave her children was genuine. “Yes, principessa, Jake is coming home.”

Dahlia's mouth hung open. “When? How is it possible after all this time? He was on a deep-space vessel wasn't he? They just don't come home. Is something wrong?”

Benito was still quiet, his violet eyes darting from his sister to his mother. His small mouth was firm and he stared at his mother as if he wasn't sure what end was up.

“He'll be home soon – a week or so,” Xana explained. “And ships do get called home, even deep-space ships. It's not common but it happens.”

“Mom, he hasn't been home in forever,” Dahlia pointed out.

“I know,” Xana sighed.

“Like *years*,” Dahlia said.

“Trust me, I'm aware of that,” the older woman pointed out.

Dahlia began waving her hands around as if to show the magnitude of what was happening. “I mean I was like a little older than Ben when he left.”

That was the first thing that got her son to get out of his self-imposed quiet funk. “My name is Benito.”

“Hey I remember when you were born. Your dad liked Ben and he used to call you that all the time, you better get used to it,” Dahlia warned not too unkindly. Giving him a one armed hug she whispered, “I don't think Jake is going to call you Benito.”

“My name is Benito,” the 4 year old muttered stubbornly as he slouched down in his chair sticking out his lower lip.

Looking at her son she asked, “Benito? You ok?”

Benito, her 4 year old who hadn't seen his father since he was a baby simply put down the rest of his pizza and announced, “I done. Can I have a cookie for dessert?”

=/\=

Later that night as Dahlia was taking a shower, Xana was putting Benito to bed, a process which involved a drink, no less than three stories and a process of picking out a “friend” (or two or three) to sleep with, all before being tucked in and checking the night light.

Just as Xana thought she was ready to leave the dark room she heard, “Mama?”

“Yes?”

“Why?”

Biting back the sigh she had every night at this time, Xana turned around. Benito was famous for this – right before he went to bed, he'd ask some question that took forever to answer. He'd pull some question out of thin air and just as she was exhausted she'd have to answer it; because “Let's wait until tomorrow” just wasn't acceptable for an answer.

“Why what, Benito?”

“Why is my father coming home?” With his shark blanket pulled up to his chin, and his stuffed friends around him, her dark haired son suddenly looked...young. And confused.

The Bolian/Human woman understood that last part.

Xana sighed, walked over to the toddler bed and sat down on the floor so she was eye level with Benito. “Because this is where he lives.” She paused. “This is his home.”

“No it's not,” Benito replied shaking his head.

“Yes it is,” Xana said.

“No,” Benito replied. “He lives in space. We live here. So this is our home –

“Our?”

“Me, Dahlia and Mama. And Angus and Taz. And Sticky.”

“Sticky?”

“My slug.”

“Oh of course.”

“But not his.” Benito shrugged. “He's not here. Not ever never.”

Xana paused, then she sighed. Her heart constricted and twisted into a tight, small ball in her chest at that. How in the name of 99 hells was she supposed to get through this? Get them through this? It shouldn't be like this. “Oh tesoro mio, who told you that?”

The young boy wiggled in his bed. Finally he shrugged. “I thought it.” Playing with a stuffed dragon and not meeting his mother's eyes so like his own, Benito asked, “But he'll go back, right? He won't stay forever?”

“Go to bed, Benito. We'll talk in the morning,” Xana whispered, because she had no answer for how long Jake would stay. Kissing her son and re-arranging the blankets, the Bolian/Human woman looked at her son for a moment before getting up to leave. Angus ever loyal, and sensing when someone could use some extra attention, padded softly into Benito's room and collapsed on the floor next to the young boy's bed.

Xana walked into the hallway and wandered down to her daughter's room. Sticking her head into her daughter's room she said, “Did you take a shower?”

“It's why my hair is wet,” Dahlia grinned.

“Smart mouth,” the Bolian/Human woman replied. Looking at her daughter, who was sitting up in bed dressed in her pajamas she asked, “What are you up to?”

“Reading this message I got. Mom, Amaryllis is on tour. Can we go see her?” Dahlia asked holding up a PADD. “Look she sent me the info.”

Xana smiled. “Well I guess not everyone can say their former babysitter is an up-and-coming progressive rock/classical musician. I'll see what I can do.”

“Awesome,” Dahlia grinned. Tossing the PADD to the side she asked with a sarcastic grin, “Is the ankle-biter ok?”

“Your *brother* is confused but ok,” Xana corrected with a grin. “You ok?”

The Bolian/Human/Bajoran girl shrugged. “It could be worse.”

“Worse?”

“Yeah, Jake could be dead and then people could be constantly coming up to him trying to look for his father in him. Want me to tell him that?”

“Dahlia...”

“Either I have to be Gene McInnis or Xana Bonviva. Trust me, Benito has it easy. He's only got one parent to live up to. Jake just isn't here,” the 9 year old said with unshed tears in her eyes.

Sucker-punched by a 9 year old still was sucker-punched. Actually it hurt worse; you didn't see it coming and your kid knew how to hurt you more.

“Oh principessa, I don't know what to say.” Xana moved over to the bed to hug her daughter but was rebuffed when Dahlia shrugged and moved away.

“Whatever. You're still going to be Secretary to Starfleet tomorrow. Dad is still going to be dead and hero. The only thing that maybe different is Jake maybe home for who knows how long. And then he'll leave right away.”

“You don't know that,” Xana sighed.

“Is he retiring? Staying forever?” When Xana said nothing, Dahlia countered, “So yeah he'll leave pretty soon.” Shrugging she said, “I hope nothing happens to him but if it does then Benito and I can have that in common too.”

Weary beyond all belief Xana shook her head. “Enough, Dahlia. Per favore, enough. Yes, your father is dead. He'll always be dead and nothing will ever change that. And yes, people thought what he did was heroic.” Here Xana reached out to touch her daughter's cheek, “But he was your father and you and I loved him and he loved us. You can't control what others think but you can control what you think – so please remember that. More than the other things.”

Dahlia said nothing during that. “I don't remember him. I don't remember any of those things you said. All I know is what everyone tells me.”

“I know,” Xana said quietly. “But you have to believe me on this.”

The 9 year old said nothing for the longest time and simply petted her targ who had come to join her on the bed. Finally the girl decided to look at her mother. “Benito doesn't remember Jake,” Dahlia pointed out. “That's why he's scared. That's why he wants Jake to not come.”

“I know,” Xana nodded.

Dahlia finally shrugged and slid into bed. “I'm going to read now.”

Xana nodded. Kissing her daughter she said, “Don't stay up too late.”

"Mom?" When Xana turned around she said, "I don't want Jake to die. I thought you should know."

"Me neither."

"I don't want Benito to have to be like me."

"Oh Dahlia-"

"Night," her daughter announced turning off her light.

Finally the Secretary of Starfleet wandered into her bedroom alone. Sitting on her bed she put her head in her hands and cried softly. She wanted her husband, she wanted a father for her son, a stepfather for her daughter...and it was all going swirling down into one of 99 hells.

She was so tired, so damn tired and the emotions she spent all day repressing were coming flowing out of her flying from sadness to rage. She was so tired of crying alone. She had gotten married to have a partner, not to be a single mother again, which is what she felt like now. What she had felt like on many nights. On the nights when her kids got sick. On the good days when they did something funny or spectacular and she had no one to share it with. On those days that she questioned herself and wanted someone to talk to about it.

She wanted a husband to curl up with at night. Someone to sleep with and hold hands with. Someone to make love to and laugh with when life got silly, and someone to share the worries with.

She wanted Jake. She wanted to have back what they used to have. Before he left, before she pushed him away. Before they drifted. She wanted back what they had, all they had and all that promise of what they could be. Damn it, they had faced impossible things before - why not this?

Then for the briefest of moments she felt it...that warmth that came from *him* (as her son referred to her husband). She felt the strength of his bond; it had been so long that at first it was almost foreign to her. But there it was - strong, steady if a little overwhelming; so intense it made her sway in her bed. She wished for more of it but was afraid to reach out for more, as if appearing too greedy would get her psychic hand slapped.

It felt amazing. Better than chocolate. It wrapped her up like a warm blanket and calmed her down immensely.

Then like that Jake was gone, and the hole in her heart was back, like it always was and had been for the last few years.


=/\=

Location: SB 5

Scene: Cargo Bay

TI: Next Day


“Come on out Lt. Dumb Ass.”

It's surprising but most people don't like to be called “Lt. Dumb Ass.”

Well maybe not surprising to most people but to a particular Vulcan/Bolian CNS it actually was pretty surprising.

“Lieutenant Dumb Ass, come out.” It was hard to imagine a voice more annoyed and bored but there it was.

“My name is Lt. Dumas,” came the small voice from behind the boxes in the far corner.

Lt. Phia, the Bolian/Vulan CNS assigned to SB 1 sighed and walked over to where the CSciO was huddled behind the containers. Flipping her long black hair back, the blue woman with pointy ears glared down and narrowed her gray eyes. “I said that.”

“No, my name is Dumas; as in “do” and “mass”. Dumas,” the CsciO explained.

“Yes. But you've decided to ignore your responsibilities for over a year, responsibilities you begged for even though you were woefully under-qualified for,” Phia said judgment. Swinging herself up onto a container, she folded her legs under herself and continued on, “Still it was a chance to prove yourself. “So what did you do? You hid in your office, you ignored your staff which is the primary responsibility of a Chief. Gave no direction or leadership and instead you decided to focus only on your robotics program which is a 1/10th of your actual duties as Chief. And even then the robotics program suffered, crashing constantly. When command tried to give you direction you fought them on it or melted into hysterics which sadly leads me to today when you've threatened to kill yourself and even then it's clear you're not doing it and only to delay the inevitable demotion.” Snapping her fingers she said, “All caught up on why I've renamed you Lt. Dumb Ass?”

“I will kill myself,” Lt. Dumas sniffled.

Phia rolled her eyes. “Oh tell it to someone who hasn't killed before.”

Dumas gave her a look. “You're CNS.”

“I was Intel before that,” Phia explained. The CNS explained, “You've only got .5 cc of kayolane which might knock you out...for a few hours. Enough to ship you away but that's it.”

“I want to die. All I wanted was to be Captain,” Dumas sniffled.

Phia sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “Yeah that's not happening.”

“It could still happen--”

“Trust me it's never happening.”

The CSciO moaned. “Help me kill myself,” Dumas begged.

“Oh if only I could,” the CNS admitted. “You started giving me a headache a while ago.”

“You're too mean!”

The CNS glared at her then took out her retractable sword, opened it up, then passed it over, hilt first. “Here, and I'll even be nice. Don't go across the wrist, that's a slow bleed. Go down the arm, you'll bleed out quicker.” When Dumas hesitated Phia softened her voice, “Or you could be a real Chief for once, resign your position, allow someone else to take charge and face the music.”

It took a little more convincing but Dumas finally left. Phia convinced her to get counseling (thankfully with someone else in the department – the Bolian/Vulcan didn't do long term sessions). After Dumas left Phia sat cross-legged on a container and started writing her report.

“That was soo cool!”

Phia looked up. She saw a young green boy with tousled blond hair. “How much did you see?”

“I saw enough,” he grinned.

“Fantastic,” she muttered. “Go home—whatever your name is.”

“Aiden,” he grinned. “Aiden Nixa-Layne.” Waving he said, “You're just like my brother, I'm going to go get him. Except he doesn't know the best way to kill someone.”

As the kid left, the CNS shook her head. She couldn't do this. She couldn't keep moving around, making friends and leaving. Meeting moppets of kids who needed guidance and helping wayward souls. Phia just wasn't cut out for this. People exhausted her.

Years ago, she had some...colleagues. Egads, she couldn't use the word friends. Still, she was as fond of them as she was ever fond of people. But the STONEHENGE went off and Phia went in another direction. And since then she was adrift.

Flipping through her messages she saw another message from a Stonn...and it occurred to her that instead of wishing for what was maybe she should pursue something new.


=/\=

NRPG: Shedding more light on Xana's job and home life and bringing out everyone's bitchiest CNS/Intel :)

=/\=


Sarah Albertini-Bond

Secretary Xana Bonviva

Secretary to Starfleet


and

Lt. Phia

CNS

SB 5