24 hours or 24 hours and 1 minute, Sucker punches

Posted on May 26, 2014 @ 9:18pm by Ambassador Xana Bonviva
Edited on on Jun 05, 2014 @ 8:49am

Mission: The Tangled Webs We Weave
Location: EARTH
Tags: Xana, Family, Diplomacy

“24 hours or 24 hours and 1 minute”



=/\=

Location: EARTH

Scene: Venice, Italy - Bonviva Villa

“Dahlia! Let’s get a move on it,” Xana called from the front door. Looking up at the chrono on the wall she said, “We have to leave for school.”

“I wanna play now,” Benito announced as he went dashing off.

“Hey,” Xana called out. Benito stopped mid-run, his right foot still in the air, but he wouldn’t turn around. “Back it up. We have to leave.”

“Dahlia isn’t here,” Benito pointed out as he pivoted around.

Her 9 year old came clomping down the stairs in her soccer uniform - black shorts, red shirt with the grey bulldog on it, and making all the clomping sounds was her darling daughter wearing her cleats on the bamboo floor. Scratching the hell out of her floor, Xana noted.

“Dahlia, you know you don’t wear your cleats -- or even the rest of your uniform -- except when you’re playing.” When her daughter made a face at her the Bolian/Italian woman pointed up stairs, “Change and bring down your soccer stuff in your bag.”

Dahlia stuck out her tongue at her mother for that and struck a defiant pose with her hand on her hip.

Xana felt her nostrils flair, but she tried to keep her temper. “That’s not how we behave in this house. Upstairs, young lady. Change, and then come back down with your uniform.
We don’t have much time.”

The 9 year old glared at her mother as she stomped back upstairs, “You’re so mean! I wish I didn’t live in this house!”

Benito, who watched the exchange with his mother and sister with interested eyes, asked after his sister left, “Mama?”

“Si, bambino,” Xana murmured as she shook her head, vainly trying to shake off the turmoil she felt.

“Where would we live?” Benito asked. When his mother gave him a puzzled glance he said, “Dahlia doesn’t want to live here. Where would we go?”

“Nowhere, you’re going nowhere,” Xana replied.

=/\=

Scene: Paris, France -> Secretary Bonviva’s office

Xana walked down to her office later than she expected, but this was one of those days when whatever schedule she had went out the window. When she got to Paris she was diverted to the Situation Room, and now finally she was able to go to her office.

John Hiram had started his political career back on the GATEWAY as an Intern under the Ambassador (during her first stint in that role). Out of her staff, John realized he knew her better than most, save for her touched pilot and the Security guard. And he knew better than to surprise her on an empty stomach, which was to say most of the time.

“Ma’am? The NIMBUS III delegation are in your office,” John explained. “Consul Taro.”

Xana looked at Hannibal, who gave her an impressively bored look. “You never let me throw them out first,” he said.

“No, first we talk,” the Secretary sighed. This should have been the President doing this but when it came to StarFleet affairs, everyone ran to her first even though the President made the final call. Straightening her suit she walked into her office.

“Madame Secretary--” the liaison from NIMBUS III began.

She was not in the mood for this. “Consul Taro, I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I was in the Federation Situation Room.”

“Madame Secretary, the Federation is trampling on the sovereignty of my planet,” Consul Taro stated.

“I’ve just taken your space stations and deployment centers, neutralizing all space travel,” Xana explained as she kept going to her desk. Sitting on the edge of it, she read over a PADD and signed it. Passing it over to John who was hovering nearby she continued on. “Clearing the way for the 101st to take take the capital. 10,000 troops, 30 Bradbury class, 15 Apollo class, and 3 Akira-class ships are all on standby just outside the zone, waiting for my order.” Pausing for a moment she said, “Strictly speaking, we just took over your planet without the paperwork.”

Consul Taro gave her a pleading look. “We are in the midst of a civil war.”

“No, you’re in the middle of a one-sided slaughtering,” Xana corrected patiently as if he were one of her children. The only sign she was beyond angry was the tense shoulders and her arms folded, “Now all of our Ambassadors, led by Ambassador Myall, have tried to appeal to you, as have the Romulans and Borg. And all have struck out, to the peril of over 200,000 men, women, and Gods know how many children. You struck down neutral science and archaeological stations for no reason other than because you could,” the Secretary rattled off.

“They were doing unnatural work!” Taro yelled.

Xana blinked for a moment. “You want to live in the Neutral Zone, you live with us and our progress. Your president had no problem with our research when it benefited him. Now that it doesn’t he launched an attack on the scientists who were all neutral, under a veil of misogyny and ignorance, and then continued on to wipe out his enemies. And let’s be honest, the reign of corrupt practices and scum in the government preceded this sudden zealotry against progress.

“Your president has 24 hours to give the orders to his troops to stand down and hand over their weapons to the 82nd. 24 hours. At 24 hours and 1 minute, I give the order to Admiral Banks for the 101st to take the capital and run up our flag.”

The Consul looked at her with barely distinguished anger, violence radiating off him. “You are going to start a war with the Romulans! We’re an intergalactic planet of peace.”

The Secretary tilted her head to the side as if he was an unusual species she had never seen before. “They knew what we were doing; and they haven’t stopped us. Nor will they; and you don’t need to worry about that.” She paused before repeating narrowing her violet eyes, “24 hours. Or 24 hours and 1 minute. The choice is yours.”

There was a long silence before the azure woman cleared her throat and went to the next topic. “Now, I haven’t had breakfast. Anyone want a biscotti or croissant?” Xana smiled and asked pleasantly.

=/\=
Location: EARTH
Scene: Paris, France -> Secretary Bonviva’s office
TI: Later

John Hiram waited patiently as Secretary Bonviva read through the policy briefing again.
“Ma’am?” he asked when was pretty sure he saw her eyes glaze over. “What are you going to do with the briefing from Admiral Norba?”

Xana, who had kicked off her heels and tucked her legs under her in her chair, as she read aloud, “Skeptics are commonplace with it comes to dealing with the Cardassians. StarFleet, and by extension, have incentives to undermine compromise. Some of these concerns could be legitimate, some not…” Shaking her head she said, “It reads like a diary and even then I’m not sure what the point is.”

“Fourth screen,” John offered. When Xana gave him a look he said, “He gets to the point on the 4th screen.”

“Gods above and below,” Xana murmured. Putting the PADD on the side she said, “I’m re-writing this before submitting it. I can’t have this going out. The President will fall asleep before the 4th screen.”

“Speaking of which you have that meeting,” John offered.

“Damn it, I’ve got to go,” she announced while looking for her shoes. Slipping on the heels she said, “Tell them on my way.”

As she walked out a thin Betazoid man who was playing cat’s cradle by himself. Most of the staff learned by now this was just one of his multitude of quirks.

“How are we doing, Shin?” she asked.

The man frowned, “I keep losing.”

“I need a ride,” Xana announced. “We’ll talk strategies on the way.”

=/\=
Scene: President’s House - Versailles, France

When Xana Bonviva was tapped to be Secretary of StarFleet she asked for something -- at least one meeting a week with the President. Alone. She convinced the President-elect Moray that it was in his best interests to meet with her so she could get him up to speed on StarFleet as he had never been a part of the institution.

It was one of the few decisions that she had ever made, that Xana felt prescient because this little time each week gave her unfettered access which as she was learning in the swirling vortex of politics and back-stabbing.

So on this Tuesday, Xana sat in the gardens of the President’s House and over lunch chatted with the President.

“Tell me again, Secretary Bonviva, what is that I’m eating?” President Moray asked.

Ah yes, her side of the bargain. In exchange for the meetings Xana was obliged to bring along food from some part of EARTH, as the President wanted to learn more about his new home. Looking over at the long baguette approximately 16 inches long, cut down the middle to accommodate the shrimp dipped in beer batter and fried, intermingled with lettuce, tomato, pickles, onions and mayo; a healthy serving of fried potatoes cut into long sticks were on the side Xana noticed that the President certainly was enjoying his meal.

“Today we have a shrimp po’boy and a side of French fries,” Xana explained.

“Fascinating. This appeals both to my taste buds and to the other senses as well,” he said. As the mayo dripped down he admitted, “Messy but fascinating. I can see the appeal to many groups actually. I wonder what would happen if we...”

That’s why Xana actually liked the President as she listened to him link Louisana po’boys to the upcoming dinner with the Deltans by linking it to a traditional dish they had on their homeworld.

“So how is the Fleet?” Moray asked after a while, as if he was asking about one of her children. “Any fallout from that NIMBUS III thing?”

Sending in a considerable amount of her resources suddenly became a “thing”; this is where Xana didn’t care for her role in this administration. “Sir, we sent in over 10,000 troops, that’s a little more than a “thing”; it’s a mission. And no it’s not resolved,” she explained. As Moray waved his hand to either dismiss her argument or a pesky fly, or both, the Secretary of StarFleet explained, “Well the NIMBUS III delegate was in my office when I got back from the Sit Room.”

“And you took care of it, fantastic,” Moray smiled. “I knew you could explain it to them in a way they’d understand.”

Either he was a brilliant politician who didn’t want the finger-pointing back at him, or he was utterly clueless; Xana couldn’t figure out which yet, although given those options she actually wished for the first.

“The Secretary wouldn’t have had to explain it if you listened to me,” a voice called out.

Xana turned around in her chair to see the Vice President walking across the grass with a shadow behind him. The Vice President walked past the tall sculpted gardens, the shadow behind him took form in the sun.

“Mr. Vice President. Admiral Edgerton. What a surprise,” Xana smiled thinly. Silently she was trying to figure out the link between the VP and Edgerton, and none came to mind immediately. She was going to have to take this back to sort through. Turning back to the President she said, “I sincerely doubt the Vice President’s theory of “Just Wait It Out” would have saved lives.”

Edgerton, who was now formally standing by the table, stated, “You’re wasting a lot of resources, Madame Secretary. Our fleet is thin.”

Taking a French fry, and popping that into her mouth, Xana studied the Admiral. Perhaps hauling his bony butt back to EARTH wasn’t great; instead of isolating him she had now given him access. “It was worth it, as the President decided. I serve at the pleasure of the Federation and this administration; the President gave the order and I carried it out.”

There was a moment where the silence, save for the munching on French fries, filled the air. “Sorry there are no more chairs,” Xana smiled.

“That’s fine,” Vice President Caunta replied. Looking at the President he said, “Sir, I need to brief you on something.” Giving a look to Bonviva he clarified, “Alone.”

As the President nodded, Xana stood up to excuse herself and watched Edgerton go off in the opposite direction. Taking the time to duck into a side room she checked in on her kids; then Xana afterwards wandered out to the rooms.

“Can you tell me where Admiral Edgerton went?” she smiled. When one of the many President’s aides pointed to another restroom, Xana briefly debated what she was doing and then figured if she was going to get any answers out of the disingenuous Admiral she had to keep catching him off his game.

So she walked into the men’s room.

“Edgerton,” she called out.

The Admiral stopped where he was at the sink and looked over at her. “What do you want?”

Xana stood before the door with her hands on her hips. “I know you take a lot of pride in your manhood, Richard. But no matter how big it is, remember I can still shut the door on it. Cut it out right now, I know what you did with NIMBUS III.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Madame Secretary,” Edgerton smiled as he dried his hands. Walking over he said, “You make it sound like I wanted NIMBUS III to perish.”

“The orders to turn back the last battalion had your name on it, and then it was re-routed away from my office so I wouldn’t find it,” Xana said narrowing her eyes. “We could have stopped this madness months ago.”

“What about Rose Harcourt?” Xana asked, referring to the CO of the ARMSTRONG. “I read her record. She’s been your whipping girl for no damn reason. And I know you sent your recommendation to the Vice President that the ARMSTRONG go in alone to NIMBUS III.”

Edgerton walked up to Xana and said, “I don’t people who question my authority as Captain Harcourt well knows.”

Curling up his lips, just short of a smile, Edgerton said, “If you had anything definitive, aside from a bureaucratic slip up, a decision that would have been better in hindsight, you’d be coming at me before a JAG, not in the men’s room.”

Then Edgerton nudged her out of the way and Xana let him go, because as much as it pained her to admit it, he was right. Damn it all, it felt like she was right and she hated to ignore her gut on things like this.

She didn’t have enough.

=/\=
Scene: Venice, Italy - Bonviva Villa

It was late when she got home; at least her son hugged her when she got home. Her daughter was still in one royally bad mood.

“I’ve been thinking,” Dahlia announced.

They were all sitting at the table, doing their homework; or in Ben’s case a puzzle. Xana looked up from the report she was re-writing and asked, “Yes?”

“I want to live with Jake,” Dahlia stated. At Xana’s shocked look she continued on, “You’re no fun anymore, and Jake is always fun.” When her daughter just stared at her the 9 year old continued on, “What? He’s my stepfather, I have every right.”

After the day she had, Xana couldn’t even think how to respond to her daughter’s latest sucker punch. Exhaling hard she asked, “What? Where is this coming from?”

“I miss him,” Dahlia explained plaintively. “And all you do is tell me what to do and-and-and I have to follow all these rules. If I lived with Jake on a ship, I bet wouldn’t have to worry about what I wore to school, or how I spoke to guests, or do my homework.” When her mother was too stunned to say anything she continued on, “I’m going to send him a message now.”

As Dahlia left, Benito looked at his mother. “I’m going to Dad?”

Xana resisted the urge to bury her head in her hands. “I hadn’t thought about it.” Suddenly she was struck by a thought. “Benito, did you want to go?”

Her 4 year old son shrugged his shoulders. “Dahlia said he’d let me eat ice cream all the time.”

If her kids had any say, Xana realized, she was going to lose them to the DISCOVERY.

=/\=
TI: Later that night

Things were still not resolved with Dahlia, which broke Xana’s heart. However, it did give her an idea. “Computer, open a communication to Cmdr. Jacob Crichton, CEO - USS DISCOVERY.”

The computer beeped for a few minutes before coming back with a neutral, [[Unable to make immediate contact. Would you like to send a message?]]

“Yes,” Xana sighed. When the computer beeped twice to indicate it was recording she sighed and began, “Hey Jake. I hope this finds you well. I miss you. I do. I hope...well…”

Funny the person she used to be the most comfortable with she was so unsure of for some reason. As if she should be questioning her husband. Shaking that thought out of her head she continued on, “I wanted to explain Dahlia’s communication to you. She’s chafing a bit, I guess it’s natural. But it even got Benito thinking about seeing you again.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat she said, “So I was wondering how you’d feel if at some point the kids and I meet up with you and...well...you take the kids. Clearly they need you. I do too but I can’t spend all my time on one ship, so maybe we - you and I - could spend a little time together. But they can, and you all need each other.”

=/\=
NRPG: Post 2 of 2!

Ok I had more planned but I’ve run out of steam. I think I hit upon a lot of characters and if I missed you - I’ll hit you up next time.

=/\=
Sarah Albertini-Bond
Xana Bonviva
Secretary to StarFleet