New Points Of View

Posted on Mar 26, 2017 @ 1:22am by Captain Michael Turlogh Kane & Ambassador Xana Bonviva
Edited on on Mar 26, 2017 @ 1:22am

Mission: In Place of God

"NEW POINTS OF VIEW"

(Continued from "Hang In There, Baby")

"In the practice of tolerance, one's enemy is the best teacher."
- Tenzin Gyatso (the 14th Dalai Lama)

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Captain's Log, supplemental - with the Phoenix now underway to the Neutral Zone, the ship's senior officers get a chance to get back to work, to do what they do best. As for myself, I'm looking forward to watching them in action...

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Location: USS Phoenix, en route to the Neutral Zone
Stardate: [2.16]0325.2125
Scene: Captain's Ready Room, Deck 1, saucer section


Michael Turlogh Kane was feeling good for a change. The ship was underway, travelling at best speed for Bolarus, and there was nothing for a ship's captain to do except sit back and leave it all to his underlings. That's what they were there for, he thought, as he opened a history book on a PADD and began to scroll down through it. He had been going through a Byzantine kick of late - the story of the Eastern Roman Empire, which lasted a further thousand years following the collapse of the empire in the west, was fascinating - and had come across this book quite by accident. He reckoned he could nose his way through it by the time the ship arrived at the Neutral Zone, ready to beef up Starfleet's presence there.

What Admiral T'sen had *not* said was as important as what she *had* said. The Romulans would probably be aware that the Phoenix had left Spacedock - they had their own ambassador on Earth, and the Tal'Shiar was a fearsome intelligence organisation that kept the Imperial Navy well informed of events inside the Federation - but they might not be aware of her destination. They weren't stupid, though - the Romulans were well capable of extrapolating the causes and effects of various circumstances inside the Federation, and might well suspect that the only dreadnought in the quadrant was on her way to cast a long shadow over the Neutral Zone. The speed of Starfleet's defeat when the Romulans invaded the Federation nearly three years ago had sent waves of panic amongst the analysts and intelligence people within the Starfleet Intelligence, who had not expected the Neutral Zone fleet to be so suddenly and brutally smashed aside. Now, though, there were rumours that the Federation was responding, that the Phoenix was the tip of the spear that included newly-formed battlegroups, tachyon nets, bursts of random static into the Neutral Zone, and cloaked probes - the Romulans were doing the same, certainly, but they would now know that the eyes of the Federation were turning their way, and that the two super-powers were both gearing up for some sort of confrontation. The Romulans needed to answer for the Siege of Bolarus, and there were numerous public opinions in the Federation that wanted them to.

The strategic situation aside, Kane was determined to take it easy for this voyage. He'd be under enough pressure once the Phoenix started patrolling the Neutral Zone pickets. For now, Jake could handle day-to-day command of the ship and the department heads could get used to their new and old staff, while he read his book.

Chapter One. The Crisis of the Third Century. Excellent.

Then the door chimed. Kane rolled his eyes. Why on Earth (or anywhere else in the universe) did things like that always happen at times like this? Rather than being pleased with his solitude, he began to grouch.

"Come!" he snapped irritably.

Eve Dalziel came in. The *original* Eve Dalziel, he reminded himself. There was another one of them out there somewhere. "Counselor." He sat up straight as she sat down opposite him. Kane made a mental note to get rid of the bloody chair on the other side of the desk - that way, people wouldn't bother him for more than a minute or two. They'd deliver their message and get the hell out. Having a chair there just invited superfluous personal chatting. "What can I do for you?"

"Not me, Captain," said Eve. "I'm here representing someone else."

Kane knew who it was as soon as the words left her mouth. There was only one person on the ship who was capable of bothering him on a galaxial scale like this. He put his hands over his face. From behind them, his voice sounded tinny and echoed. "What does she want?"

"A meeting."

Kane rolled his eyes. "I'm busy supervising." He shoved the history PADD behind his monitor. "Really busy supervising. You wouldn't believe the amount of supervising I have to do."

"She said it was important," said Eve. "Something to do with Hussein Karimi and her reason for visiting Bolarus."

Kane thought about it. Whatever Xana Bonviva was up to was no concern of his. Getting involved in her business was like baring your arse to the Furies, and he didn't want to get mixed up in any sort of trouble with the cut-throat politicians on Vulcan. The Phoenix would provide its best service to the Federation a million miles from the capital world, and two million miles away from Xana bloody Bonviva.

But there might be something in it. If Xana had something to say, it was likely to be important, and given their mutual loathing for one another, the very fact that she wanted to be within swinging distance of him made him interested.

He shrugged, making his mind up. "Fine. Bring her here."

"Not here," said Eve. "The Vulgar Tribble."

"I don't go to the Vulgar Tribble."

"You'll have to, Captain. She was adamant."

"I'm the captain of this bloody ship, Counselor!" yelled Kane incredulously. "It's bad enough that you're here trying to finagle something on behalf of that woman, but now you want *me* to go to *her*? Whose side are you on, anyway?"

The words came out harder than he meant, but Eve didn't seem to notice the tone. She was in full-on counselor mode, not reacting, letting the whiplash of Kane's temper dissipate around her. "You'll still be the captain of the ship after the meeting, sir. She asked me to pass on the message to you, that's all. Like I said, it seemed important. I know you won't let your personal feelings interfere with your professionalism."

"Oh, that's wonderful," said Kane snarkily. "A great line, that one." He stood up and walked to the ready room's viewport, but there was nothing to see except the white lashes of the starfield as the ship ploughed through them at warp speed.

Eve waited patiently in her seat.

After a moment, Kane sighed. "Tell her I'll be there in an hour, Counselor."

Eve got to her feet. "Yes, Captain. Thank you, sir."

She high-tailed it out of the ready room before his mood blackened even further.

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Scene: The Vulgar Tribble


Iphie Bonviva stood at the doors of the Vulgar Tribble, brandishing her pride and joy (the Misono UX10 Santoku - seven inches of double edged Swedish stainless steel, antique, 21st century knife to end all knives), and stared down a horde (or was it a rookery? An array?) of frustrated Starfleeters. “I said The Vulgar Tribble is closed until further notice! Go back to your replicated food that you keep telling me you love! I’ll re-open later!” she yelled as she stood on a bar stool.

Was it the most effective way to do close down the Vulgar Tribble? That was questionable, but it got the point across, as both the officers and enlisted turned away with loud grumbles. Iphie waited until most of them were gone. Turning to the Bynars who worked with her she ordered, “Block the doorway with chairs so no one can get in easily. Then get a holographic sign saying ‘Closed for Private Party’.”

An hour later, the Bynars had polished down all the tables and chairs by hand (over much arguing amongst themselves and with Iphie). As she prepped the food for the meeting, Calvin and Hobbes came into the kitchen.

“One of -”

“- the private guests -”

“- is here -”

“- now for you.”

Iphie had already put the beer bread rolls in the oven while the bacon was frying on one of the stovetop burners. On another burner was the water for gnocchi, and on the last burner she was prepping a veloute sauce for the poulette that would be paired with the pasta. “Oh no, the prima donnas couldn’t like the same foods,” she muttered sarcastically. “Send her back in!” she yelled at Calvin and Hobbes.

After several moments, Xana Bonviva walked into the kitchen wearing a red pantsuit and white blouse, her hair tied back into a simple knot. Sniffing the air she said, “Smells good.”

“Of course it does,” Iphie agreed as she swiped back a stray pink hair. Frowning at the bacon she whispered, “Come on, crisp up just a tad more.”

“Are you whispering to the bacon now?” Xana asked as she wandered to the back to get the plates out.

Iphie glared at Xana. “Yes, I am. Listen to me. Do you know what was served at the peace negotiations with the Klingons in 2293?”

Xana shook her head as she considered that. “What? No. Rokeg Blood Pie? Pipius Claw?”

“Sounds good,” Iphie nodded. “But I don’t know. You don’t know. Nobody knows. Do you know why? Because for successful diplomatic meetings we don’t know. But for the unsuccessful ones we *do* know, because everyone picks apart everything, including the damn food! It always comes down to the food,” the chef argued as she pulled out the rolls from the oven.

Holding up her hands in a “don’t shoot” gesture, the elder sister promised, “I can tell you that anytime that Michael Turlogh Kane and I have disagreed, we have never blamed the food.”

Brandishing a spatula, Iphie warned, “And you won’t today.”

Xana narrowed her violet eyes. “You know you’ve gotten way too--”

“You’re not blaming my food!” Iphie warned. “THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF MY CAREER AND YOU WON’T RUIN IT!”

Xana nodded and walked out of the kitchen. Patting the Bynares as she walked out, she whispered, “You don’t get paid enough.”

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Scene: The Vulgar Tribble
Time Index: Later


Xana was standing at the windows looking out at the space on the far side of the Vulgar Tribble, when she heard another set of footsteps come towards her across the empty room. It was strange to see and hear the Vulgar Tribble devoid of life - usually there was someone in it at all times - even the Delta Shift crew came down her in the middle of ship's night while on the break times. Anyway, even if she didn’t know who the approaching person was, the reflection in the windows showed it to be the Commanding Officer of the USS Phoenix, walking in careful, measured steps towards her. He was not wearing a pleasant expression on his face.

Inhaling deeply, the azure woman turned around and leaned forward, bracing herself on one of the chairs of the dining area. Once the Irishman was closer she nodded a greeting at him. "Thank you for coming."

“What can I do for you?” Kane replied neutrally, the words coming out half-question, half-statement as he moved to sit down opposite her.

There they were, Xana mused, two bitter foes come to make a sour treaty. Most people thought that the danger with politicians was with what they said - that the honeyed promises and golden dreams that they spun were what entranced entire populaces, and might ultimately lead to the demise of everyone.

Perhaps that happened some of the time, she thought. However, if you worked long enough in the underbelly of politics, you learned that most dangerous thing a politician could do was *not* say something. And despite what the promotional literature stated, you did not become commanding officer of a Starfleet vessel without some politics in your blood. All of this led Xana to analyze Michael Turlogh Kane’s four words and find that it was a hypothetical query, not an actual question. Xana strongly suspected Michael knew exactly what he *could* do for her, but that what he actually *wanted* to do was something else entirely.

They had an enormous fight in public once. It was ten years ago now, on Gateway station, shortly after the Bajoran wormhole had closed and stranded the Gateway seven hundred thousand light years from home. The Dominion had seen the station's weakness and were interfering in the Federation's alliance with the Andarans. Both of them - he as the station's commander and she as a Federation ambassador - had been under a hell of a lot of stress at the time, and each chafed at having to work together. Kane had stormed into her office to have it out with her, and the row had escalated dangerously - she could still vaguely remember seeing the aghast faces of her staff as they bellowed insults at each other in a different time and place.

She dragged herself back to the here and now. “I wanted to brief you on my trip to Bolarus.”

Kane sat down and listened to Xana Bonviva give a brief outline of the investigations of the Save Bolarus fund. The fund had started out, as all things do, with the best of intentions. After the Siege of Bolarus, all of the Federation Council members had contributed to the Save Bolarus fund. Except it the funds that were promised never made it - either to the institutions or to the people - at least not in the numbers promised. As Xana Bonviva had lived through the Siege of Bolarus, serving her homeworld in the Bolian Office of Protection (a planetary division of Security), her former staff had reached out to her to let her know of the issues with the missing monies. Xana tried reaching out to her counterparts in the Bolian Councilmember’s office but got nowhere, so she took to investigating herself. At the same time, her staff had been doing background investigations on some Federation Council members (Xana would not say who), and a freight company named Pangeos Pathways came up in their investigations. Pangeos Pathways always operated *this* close to the law; just shy of lawbreaking, or had routinely dabbled in the gray market, and clearly they had powerful backers who operated in the shadows. What this all had to do with the resources not being in the Fund to Save Bolarus, Xana Bonviva admitted to Kane that she was not sure. However, she explained to him that she was authorized to investigate.

While Xana was speaking, Iphie Bonviva and the Bynars that worked with her came out delivered some food - bacon sandwich for him, and gnocchi in mushroom cream sauce for her. Surprisingly, there was a single pot of tea for both of them placed in the middle of the table. Iphie took the grateful nods of both parties with a smile, then retreated back into her kitchen with Calvin and Hobbes.

Wrapping up her briefing, Xana said, “I wanted to make you aware of the possible irregularities, as there were a number of Federation worlds that contributed resources to the Fund, including some on the Council. If there *are* any irregularities, then -”

“- the repercussions could be widely felt just as the Federation is just getting back on its feet,” Kane finished off for her. "Starfleet is still building up its numbers after the Battle of Earth, and we can't be everywhere at once - only last week there was an incident inside the New Ferengi Alliance involving a Starfleet vessel." He looked at her sidelong. “Are you authorized to look into Starfleet?”

Xana raised an eyebrow at that. Dabbing the edge of her mouth with a napkin before settling it back in her lap, she leaned back in her chair. “It’s hard for those who have never worked in the Starfleet to understand its role in the Federation,” she said softly. When Kane stared back at her she shrugged delicately and said, “As a civilian, I have no authority to usurp Starfleet's JAG. I am well aware of that, nor do I have a desire to do so. I'm just making you aware of these things.”

Kane was quiet, looking out into space as he digested Xana's words.

Leaning in for a moment to lift up her teacup, she changed topics. “I’m aware you follow the news, so you must know that Earth was elected to the Council.”

“I thought it was Hussein Karimi who was elected,” Kane replied as he reached for his sandwich.

Xana’s violet eyes flashed at that but otherwise her face was calm. Sipping her tea, she paused before answering. “Earth has a seat on the Council again. Currently that seat is held by Hussein Karimi. But regardless of who holds that seat, and their views - no matter how questionable -the point remains that Earth as a founding member of the Federation is back on the Council, and that's a good thing, right?”

Kane paused to consider her question, but plumped for a neutral answer. "I recognise both sides of the issue. Sardak was opposed to Humanity, but he wasn't evil. One the other hand, it seems foolish to completely disregard our world's contribution to the Federation."

"Let's not mince our words, Captain Kane. If it came down to it, would you support Starfleet or your homeworld?"

Kane shook his head and put down his tea with a clink. "I don't like hypotheticals, and I'm not playing this game." He moved to get up from his seat.

"It might not be hypothetical for much longer, Captain."

Kane froze. "What do you mean?"

Xana looked uncomfortable. "There's going to be a presidential election at the end of this year. My gut tells me that Karimi is going to run for it."

"And?"

"And that's it. Karimi's riding the wave right now - his election to the Council, the nearly-successful assassination attempt - he's got a really high profile, and he's making new friends every day. That's not a bad thing, but it's a pretty meteoric rise. Sardak's allies on the Council - those who wanted to curb Human power - are likely to be alarmed by Karimi's runaway success, not impressed by it. If they start putting up roadblocks, or if they start forming some sort of anti-Terran caucus - " She finished the last of her tea and put it down on the table. "Some days I go into that office and think that the Federation is more divided than ever."

Kane watched her carefully. This was not the Xana Bonviva he knew and loathed - this was a different woman. She seemed sincere, seemed thoughtful and in control of her emotions, and she didn't have to be. Her imminent divorce (if the rumour mill was to be believed) from Jake Crichton, added to the pressure of working a high-stress job, seemed to be taking its toll. Perhaps age and experience had changed her in the same way it had changed him - perhaps, he noted irritably, they had more in common than they thought.

"I don't know what to tell you," he said. "I always thought that I was beholden to my oath as a Starfleet officer, but when Richard Edgerton was elected to the highest office of the Federation, I chose to interpret him as a domestic enemy and fight against him. It was the right thing to do, but only from our point of view. There's more than one side to any story - our relationship certainly bears that out."

Xana was staring at him. With a start, Kane realised that he was leaning across the table towards her, filling up her teacup, talking to her like she was a confidant. He'd let his guard down. He straightened up, but the damage was done - a moment passed between them as they looked at each other.

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Location: Space
Scene: The Phoenix, exterior


The starship continued on its way through the long night, gunmetal grey hull standing out in stark contrast to the white whips of the starfield. Space, warped and snarling, was pushed back as the Phoenix carried on through the Federation, past star systems and suns, streaking past nebulae and shattering constellations.

In the far distance lay Bolarus, speckled white-blue, a world in turmoil. The entire Bolian sector was still picking itself up following its sundering of two years ago - Starfleet was stretched thinly out here. The Phoenix drove on through the furrows.

Beyond Bolarus lay the line of listening posts, outposts, and tachyon generators that marked the boundary of the Neutral Zone, one light year in width, into which no Starfleet vessel had set a course in decades. The lights of the Federation blazed out into the Neutral Zone, but they could not reach the other side, where a hostile and implacable alien empire lay. The Phoenix rode the waves of the star-wind, ever closer.

On the other side of the Neutral Zone lay the Imperial Navy, lurking in silence behind the stars, drawn up for war, guns primed.

Still the Phoenix drove on.

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Scene: The Vulgar Tribble


"There is one more thing I wanted to ask you," said Xana. "It's personal."

Kane braced himself. He immediately thought that he'd made a mistake in being too friendly with her earlier - emboldened now, she probably thought she could ask him anything and he'd say yes. He bristled at the thought of it.

She seemed to sense his hesitation. "It's about Jake."

"I see." Kane wondered what was coming. "Go on."

"So you probably know that he and I ending our marriage," said Xana, like she was pulling teeth. "Well, it's not been easy, as you might imagine. He's under a lot of stress about it, and I was wondering - well, I was hoping you could keep an eye on him?"

Kane raised an eyebrow. "An eye on him?"

"Yes. You know, make sure he's alright. In case it affects his performance."

Kane was frowning now. He searched her face for some sort of hint as to why she'd asked his bizarre request of him, but Xana was fiddling with the crockery on the table, avoiding meeting his eyes. His initial reaction was negative - Jake Crichton was a grown man who was capable of making his own blunders, like who he chose to marry - it was not for Kane or anyone else (except maybe a counselor) to monitor him like he was a child. Also, Kane was sure that Jake was veteran enough to be able to separate his personal and professional lives, and that, while his impending divorce might be to the fore in his mind, he wouldn't let it get in the way of his day-to-day running of the Phoenix.

On the other hand, he mused, they were heading for the Neutral Zone, and into an uncertain military situation. If the Romulans were waiting with guns primed, then the entire crew was in for an abnormally tense time, and that included the Executive Officer. There was nothing wrong with a goodly amount of stress, enough to keep the mind and body alert, but too much of it would cripple both. If that was what lay in store for Jake Crichton, then he might be well advised to treat the ExO with some kid gloves for a while.

Xana wasn't looking at him now. Instead, her head was raised and she was staring across the silent room. Kane followed her gaze and saw that it went back to the kitchens where her younger sister was. The other Bonviva, he remembered, the one who had cooked this delicious bacon sandwich.

“I know members of the fleet need to be dedicated to Starfleet, especially now more than ever, but Starfleet still honors child custody agreements, especially in times of life altering events, don't they,” Xana half-said, half-asked.

Kane frowned both at the change in subject and at the statement that seemed to hide a question. “I believe so. What are you asking?”

“My children primarily still live with me, but if they *had* to they could come here, right?” Xana asked quietly. “If they couldn’t live with me, that is.”

Kane paused for a moment trying to sort out why she was asking this. Clearly she knew that Starfleet allowed for families to be together unless it was the front lines, and even as her own family could attest, that didn’t always protect children from witnessing the horrors of battles. It seemed a pointless question, or else she was driving to some other point of view.

Suddenly he noticed that she trembled while lifting up her teacup, her eyes lowered. There was an expression on Xana's face that seemed faraway, seemed lonely, and despite himself, Kane felt a pang of pity for her. He had seen that look on her blue face once before; long ago on Gateway. It was that look of brokenness, combined with absolute resolution to get through the next moment, not because she wanted to, but because she knew she had to. She had it in the first days of her widowhood, Kane remembered uncomfortably, but now she was quieter about it. Perhaps another lesson chalked up to the inexorable passing of the days and years.

She looked up, then, looked into his eyes, and held his gaze. There was a moment, and then it died, passing away into all the things we never say.

It was enough for both of them.

“The children can come aboard to their family,” Kane said. "You too, if you need to. Whenever you want."

Xana nodded her thanks. “That will have to be enough. Jake is going to have to take care of himself. I know I’ve caused enough chaos around here -”

There wasn’t enough tea to deal with this, Kane thought to himself.

“- and for that I apologize,” Xana continued. "We're what, six days away from the Bolarus?"

Kane nodded.

“I didn’t intend to come on now. It was a fluke that Starfleet picked the Phoenix to take me home. But once I disembark, I won't be back aboard this ship. Not ever." Xana stood up and held out her hand. "Goodnight, Captain Kane."

Kane took her hand. It was warm, and her palms were wet with perspiration. "Goodnight, Miss Bonviva."

She turned away, and he watched her go, seeing Iphie and the two Bynars watch with concern from the kitchen. Now that the conversation was over, he felt hollow inside, like he'd been carrying around a weight that had fallen away from him. But even if it was possible to do something to help, he knew it was not his place. The recriminations and consequences pervading the Bonviva-Crichton family could only really be dealt with by the parties involved, and there was a finite amount of time to resolve their issues. Xana was right - the ship was six days from Bolarus with a fair wind at her back. Kane could nothing more than wish them well, but happy endings seemed few and far between these days.

He gave Xana a minute, then followed in her stead, nodding his thanks to Iphie as he made his way to the exit.

Back to work.

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NRPG: This is Sarah's post! All the best bits are hers, I just coloured in the edges.


Jerome McKee
the Soul of Michael Turlogh Kane
Commanding Officer
USS PHOENIX

and

Sarah Albertini-Bond
~writing as~
Xana Bonviva

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