A Small Reflection

Posted on Tuesday, 31 March 2020 - 1:39pm by Commander DeVala Victrix Ph.D

Mission: Operation: Overdrive
Location: USS Fontanta | Captain's Quarters
Timeline: 2393

Lieutenant Commander DeVala Victrix stood in the restroom of her quarters, standing at the washing station and looking at herself in the mirror. She looked like her normal self aesthetically speaking. Her hair was down and a bit curly, but no different than how she would sometimes have it styled at work. She did not wear nearly as much jewelry or makeup as she had in her civilian position working for the Federation and overseeing Starfleet's reserve personnel; however, she barely recognized herself on a deeper more penetrative level. Wash away the cosmetics and underneath it all was the same woman she had always been and yet different in so many ways. This mission was a special assignment, her Starfleet uniform fresh and new, updated. Her commission had been temporarily reinstated or reactivated depending on the interpretation of Admiral's word usage. Part of her wanted to smash the mirror for revealing the truth to her.

She was becoming Starfleet again. When she left Starfleet years ago as a lieutenant, she had never anticipated coming back into the service. It was one thing to have a civilian job that handled the paperwork portion of Starfleet's reserve personnel, but this was different. This was a mission, one which she accepted against her better judgment. What have I done to myself she pondered as she washed away the makeup that had adorned her face. She was not doing this mission because she had to. It was placed onto her desk, onto her lap, and was entirely optional. It could have easily been given to any career Starfleet officer young and ambitious with command training. DeVala took it though without showing any hesitance to the admiralty. She was doing it for everyone other than herself. She was doing it for the admirals who entrusted her, for Commander Barret Stillwater, the man she was tasked with tracking down, and she was doing it for Cévon because it would be honoring him.

Stillwater was the Starfleet officer cut from the same clay that Victrix had been. Though they had never served together and were of different periods of time with only some overlap, she had read his personnel file. She understood his reasoning for leaving Starfleet. They were similar to her own decisions to leave; however, where Stillwater endured longer and ultimately resigned his commission being viewed as falling from grace, she had done so prior to him and with grace. She staid close to Starfleet. She worked with admirals, captains, and commanders daily. She was only a dozen years away from being in the President's ear. In fact, she was certain that at least on one or two occasions something that she had said to an admiral had made its way to the President through the grapevine. Not that she has any real power of influence, but it did make her feel appreciated.

Victrix finished cleaning her makeup off and headed back into the living area of her quarters aboard the USS Fontana. She made a detour to the replicator unit before she crashed onto the sofa and curled up with a PaDD. Before doing so, she ordered herself a salted caramel frappé for the evening. She had some reading to catch up on though something she thoroughly enjoyed; personnel files. The USS Fontana was going to be leaving without some higher profile positions vacant. It could be days or weeks before she found Commander Stillwater. She dared not to think months, but it was within the realm of possibilities. She wanted to make his transition back into command easier by at least narrowing down candidates if not filling those vacancies before he came aboard and took command of the starship over from her. She was curious how Stillwater and Soral would get along.

Though she was hesitant about her mission and the prospect of it taking longer than a few weeks, there was part of her, a part which she was disgusted with that was starting to get complacent with the uniform and the rank. She was starting to lose the sense of nostalgia that had initially infected her, but it was creeping through her veins now, not as nostalgia, but as something far more sinister...comfort. She stopped feeling like she was masquerading as a Starfleet officer and starship commander. She was genuinely seeing herself as one. That shook her to the core. I hope you are happy Cévon she thought as she put down the PaDD and started to lose herself in the salted caramel frappé.