Finis Origine Pendet - Part I

Posted on Wednesday, 18 March 2020 - 4:37pm by Commander DeVala Victrix Ph.D

Mission: Operation: Overdrive
Location: Paris, Earth

Artistry draped the evening horizon beyond the windows as lights dimmed in preparation of nightfall. Most of the envoys had departed from their shifts, dismissing staff back to their residences for the weekend. Soothing breezes carried across the balcony outside the elevated premises, as the ambience of city’s twilight set in. Hovercars thrummed away from the parking pads in the adjacent wind corridor past the building, as signs of Paris’ skyline illuminated themselves to a sombre evening.

Life had never been quite the same since the Mars incident in ‘85, the Federation was still licking her wounds as it was. There was disparity among the beliefs whether she would ever grow back to her principles, Starfleet long since having abandoned many of them once set off to the fateful mission. Now long since failed, ending with the retirement of a legacy that faded into oblivion. Romulus was gone. Mars was ablaze, and much of the resources once dedicated to peace and exploration were still diverted elsewhere.

It was chaos. Rebuilding the infrastructure had sent priorities elsewhere for Starfleet. Explorers were no longer being pressed forward as the prestige. These days it was about operational capacity, logistics and diplomacy to mend the sore tensions between races. Particularly that in the government, which still continued its heated debates of where to prioritise sectors of improvement. They had cancelled projects in favour of restoring, if not replacing lost installations and repurposing the displaced ships littered across the quadrant. For many, it was hopeless.

And yet a mission lingered, hanging by a thread. Many did. Few, if any of them able to scrap together resources to achieve their calling. Glass holo transceivers raised themselves from Victrix’s desk, as the emblem of Starfleet Academy flickered across the surface. “Commander, you have an incoming call from Academy Command,” the virtual assistant projected, jittering off to dismiss itself.

Victrix was hoping to make some progress on assembling as much of her crew personally as she could before falling back on the odds and ends that Starfleet Command would likely trickle down and sift onto her starship. If there was one specialty in which DeVala Victrix excelled in it was sorting through personnel files and finding exactly what she was looking for. In this case procurement would not be as simple as snatching up personnel for her special assignment. When the virtual assistant alerted her to an incoming call from Academy Command, she knew that it was now, or never. She immediately accepted incoming call through a new channel.

The emblem of Starfleet Academy was replaced with the image of Admiral Prisai, a wiry Vulcan female. A woman that had a reputation which preceded her; the Vulcan was well into her hundreds. A Risan and Vulcan open a comm channel. It sounded like a set up for an off-putting joke, but there was no witty punch line. This was reality. Risans had a reputation for being ‘pleasant’ and very emotionally fuelled whereas Vulcans were known to be dry, pointed, and almost sardonic. Victrix had dealt with enough of them in her line of work to know the prudent course of action was to cut pleasantries. 

“Admiral Prisai,” Victrix greeted the woman forwardly, straightening herself in her seat. “I am sure you are aware of the pretences of this call. I’ll respect your time and make this short. Starfleet has tasked me with a special assignment and I am assembling a crew. I am looking to procure a specific individual. I believe I presented the request to you. I wish to expedite the process by speaking with you directly,” added Victrix. 

Elderly hands folded themselves neatly into a temple across a meticulously organised desk. Prisai nudged a personal access display device just out of view as the call finished connecting, directing her forward attention to the view screen projected onto her transparent monitor. “Commander,” she briefly addressed the Risan, acknowledging her presence. The least of gestures and niceties; forward if nothing else, but it was perhaps better than most Vulcans afforded others. “My secretary informed me you wished to discuss a personnel transfer. A peculiar request, given this office is for academic matters.”

The woman paused, staring vaguely at the monitor before redirecting her attention to the window as she stood from her seat, the viewport re-aligning with the movement. “I would have redirected you to personnel services, however given your presence now I can only presume you want something from me in particular. The Assistant Secretary to Starfleet Manpower and Reserve Affairs. I would not imagine this is a courtesy call, at last informing me that my programme has once again been elevated to full enrolment status.” Her attention gazed briefly towards the horizon. 

“I suspected not.” A rhetorical answer for the presumptuous question left hovering, not even granting the junior officer the moment to respond. “I will be plain with you. Were it not for your immaculate paperwork, this call would not be taking place. I don’t have time in my schedule to entertain ordinary requests. Nor something best handled by personnel services. Already commissioned officers, no less.”

Prisai released a precise about face to once more face the screen, this time looking down upon it to project her opinion of the matter. “What is it you want, commander? I will warn you -- do not waste my time. Starfleet has already restricted the amount of cadets I am warranted and the lot of them are already on present assignment, or tied to other affairs. But I suspect you already know this.”

'Straight and to the point,' thought DeVala Victrix. “Admiral, I would never waste another woman’s time. You have a lot to oversee and I have already done as you described it ‘immaculate’ paperwork,” demonstrated Victrix. She smiled and looked directly at the projected screen as though she were looking the Admiral directly in the eyes. “I need not tell you the distance the Federation has been blown off course from her initial mandate to ‘seek new life and new civilizations’, so I’ll cut to the chase. I need one of your students for a special assignment that has been placed into my hands.”

“The USS Fontana is a Merian class starship...not the most spacious starship, and limited on the amount of officers,” she began. Victrix reached over to her left and picked up a PADD. “Rhydian il’Vastam,” added the darker skinned woman. “I need him pulled and turned over to my custody for the time being. He would be an asset to the Fontana, and the mission command has tasked me with,” explained Victrix. 

Across the viewport her opposite inclined the head, a vague but distinct appreciation. “I need to ask then, commander...in what capacity does a patrol vessel have immediate need of an explorer?” A drawn interlude punctuated her statement, as she brought her arms down, folding them across one another. “Particularly a cadet, over that of an already commissioned officer with experience.”

Prisai once more hovered near the desk, picking up a trinket from it before placing it back down after replacing one component to what could only be assumed as its natural order. “Especially from an agency that has been nearly abandoned for the better part of two decades now. The majority of my cadets have the pleasure of selecting what vessel they serve on. Nearly all of them go to the Delta Quadrant, or the Gamma Quadrant for their continued studies -- a mandate no less, we require. No graduate under my or that of my predecessors’ watch permits obsolescence by their will. Our pupils are taught to advance their knowledge perpetually, and expected to do such. So again, I repeat. Why one of my cadets, when you have plenty of other options?”

“My starship is stacked enough with a dozen of the finest by the book young commissioned officers with several years of ensignship in them,” replied Victrix. “That’s all well and good, but I need something more...someone different...someone with more than experience,” began Victrix. “My request may not be logical, but sometimes logic takes a backseat to necessity or in my case desperation.”  

Victrix leaned forward in her seat, smiled at the screen and waited a moment. She just wanted Prisai to see the seriousness of her expression and let the steadiness of her tone sink in. “Admiral, with all due respect this is a special assignment for me. I was brought out of retirement, taken away from my life and given a starship for a mission that is need to know. Now, Vulcan curiosity aside, you may spend several hours getting bounced around trying to get the details of my mission. I won’t waste your time. I have someone to find...someone who’s been off the Federation and Starfleet’s radar for quite sometime.” 

The Risan took a deep breath and exhaled steadily. “I follow the paperwork. That’s who I am, but paperwork only goes so far then you’re left with the stars...I’ll save you the life story,” she said raising her hand as to say ‘let me speak’ to the Admiral. “Space exploration is not my forte. I know that I was an officer in Starfleet, but I managed to focus on the fleet part my entire career. Your cadets tend to get the pick of the litter assignments. They embody prospects for living and breathing aspirations in the Delta or Gamma Quadrants. Well, there is a bit of a shortage on exploration these days and having looked extensively over this cadet's personal files....he’s not the cream of the crop. He’s had a checkered past.”

Prisai folded her brows, a limited expression of cross determination glancing over her face before it faded. Victrix wanted to use one of her cadets to find someone...not explore. It wasn’t their purpose. They were no more bounty hunters than they were debt collectors in the Ferengi Alliance, which was to say not at all. “Commander, let us cut the pretense. Cadet Vastam had a chequered past, as you mention. Perfect marks in all of his undergraduate studies, and few, if any slips of note on the academic scores for his graduate studies. A prestigious posting to the Archer Squad, recommendations by several of his professors, but the fact remains of the...what is it the Humans call it? A ‘black spot’ on his record. An alarming degree of confrontations, none of them ending in what you would presume correctly, a positive light.”

Ears perked as the bell tolled, signalling the hour along the far wall. The admiral ignored the disturbance, waiting for the knell to finish before speaking again. “This matter aside, Cadet Vastam is unavailable, pending an ongoing investigation from my predecessor.” Dragging her chair away from underneath the desk, Prisai sat once more, folding her palms into one another in a contemplative, yet staunch expression. She pressed several buttons alongside the console attached to her desk, closing the profile which had been sent over, paying little mind to the remnant of the commander’s speech, only taking heed on the last moments as she was given the opportunity to speak.

Victrix scoffed, “Investigation by your predecessor?” now that snagged her attention, but she was not about to let it derail her. “Whatever it is he may or may not have done, taken part in, or been accused of...give me an hour and I’ll have paperwork for a full pardon drafted, overlooked by a legal advisor, and on the President’s desk by the end of the week,” she said trying her best to exude confidence and determination. 

The vulcan furrowed her brow, considering the firm statement before responding in an equally forward one. “Given his current record, and the lack thereof prior to his attendance, there is considerable evidence to believe he is no longer the most ideal of candidates for any official assignments. Violence, matched with a conflicting history of what we can only assume Borg and Romulan interference. This may well imperil his standing in the Federation. Were there to be any discovered crimes in the duration of this investigation, his career will end. Before it even begins. I guarantee that.” 

“Admiral, if you do not wish to let your checkered pupil to be assigned in any official capacity, then turn a blind eye and grant him some ‘academic leave’, and surrender him over to me. If his career is at as much of a risk as you are implying then this assignment official or unofficial may be his only chance at redemption...or would rather have an academic prodigy with a tainted behavioral pattern ruin what I suspect is your unblemished record of turning out quality students?” 

Prisai hadn’t shifted so much as an eyebrow, unfazed by the stand her counterpart had crossed. A stern gaze painted over her expression, glaring into the terminal. “Admiral Lais had reason to believe he may be a Romulan plant, or worse an xB. Particularly given some of the genetic traces which were discovered throughout his initial physical upon entering the academy." Rotating her chair ever-so-slightly, the programme commandant pulled up a file on her personal console, ordering several taps over the interface before closing it. "You would be wise to acknowledge that it is illogical to consider a candidate with the amount of blemishes upon their record as already mentioned.”

Victrix groaned audibly and closed her eyes. 'Goddesses help me with this one,' she thought to herself, beckoning back to the old ones of Risan mythology. “Suspicion is garishly worn on a woman of your caliber, Admiral. I would have thought it beneath someone of your intellect and logic, but there’s no accounting for taste. Perhaps it is not Cadet Vastam that we need to concern ourselves with? xB….Romulan plant?” Victrix rolled her eyes.

Tempered frustration mounted in the admiral's eyes. She looked over to her office door, calling her secretary before returning a curt attention span to the one she now viewed as an interloper. “Your own timing is peculiar. Specifically requesting him, with a pending investigation, to files you no doubt had access to or details you were already aware of? Attempting to magnanimously offer an out for improving both records of the agency, and his own. Perhaps a bit too benevolent, if not suspiciously so.” The faint wisp of doors opening then closing shut reverberated off the comm, as an aid leaned in to whisper something to the admiral’s ear.

“I have other matters to attend to. Cadet Vastam is, as of this moment placed on indefinite academic hold, end log.” Waving off her secretary, Prisai turned back to the holo viewer once more. “Good night, commander.”

She shook her head. “I do not know how deeply you have invested yourself into Admiral Lais’ conspiracy theories, Admiral, but I caution you to think very carefully from the goblets you drink from. Consume too much of that Kool-Aid and you’ll be no better than a snake leaf addict wasting away in the Vulcan Forge looking over your shoulder for the Tal Shiar where there’s nothing to be found. Tak lunat, Admiral.”