PLOT - JDL | Com Ivanova, Cmdr Archer | "Cascade"

Posted on Sat Apr 14th, 2018 @ 7:48pm by Commodore Rochelle Ivanova

Mission: Lacuna

It was a little after six when Archer was called to Rochelle’s quarters and he arrived with his proverbial hat in his hand. The chatter on the block wasn’t giving him anything useful, not a peep of information that could be relied upon aside from the unforgettable truth that Rochelle had essentially become stricken in her Ready Room, Almar had ordered the ship to Yellow Alert, called for medical who came and went, and then apparently ordered a site to site to move her to her quarters. Yes. Rochelle was most definitely sick and the ship’s team decided she wasn’t fit to be seen by her crew which meant she wasn’t mobile on her own volition, but wasn’t in sickbay. So many questions. So many theories. Some revolving around her being with child, carrying the Trill’s baby in secret and experiencing complications. Some saying that she’d worked herself into the ground. None of them could be substantiated, even Craig was being tight lipped and he wasn’t going to pry… Not until it became absolutely necessary.

But he didn’t buy the party line of “She had low blood sugar”. Not for a damn minute.

When she finally answered the door, however, his eyes raked over her from head to toe. Out of uniform she seemed so small, so delicate, but with her form fitting camisole and hip hugging PJ pants, it was obvious that there wasn’t a chance in hell she was carrying Landon’s spawn. He’d been gone too long, she’d have been swollen with child at this point. He breathed a sigh of relief and allowed himself a small smile, that potential crisis averted, “You rang?”

“I did.” She nodded, stepping away from the door to usher him in. She didn’t bother telling him to follow her, just simply knew that she would. Bare feet carried her back to her bed, and she was slower in her ascent back under the covers that she normally could have been – but other than that she was seamless, and she knew it. Tired, yes, but seamless. Pillows moved behind her back to support her, and her comforter pulled up over her legs, she looked up at Archer and motioned for him to find a seat. “I have information that you’re going to need, James… I just cannot and will not tell you where it came from. Just ask that you trust me as I trust you.” She began, watching him carefully. Archer was a bit of a loose cannon, hard to control, but she trusted him and she knew that push come to shove he’d do as she asked for the good of the Vindicator… The good of Starfleet.

“You have my full attention,” He replied, taking a seat and crossing his legs ankle to knee, “But let’s back up to the part where you have gotten information from people I can’t know anything about. That’s the part I’m not entirely down with, Rochelle.” He frowned, motioning with a hand for her to rewind while he shifted and settled back into his seat.

“No.” Rochelle sighed, smoothing her hands across the comforter laid over her lap, “That’s not open for discussion. What is, however, is the box on that table next to you. Open it.”

Open it he did, and inside he found the patch of heat shield and the PADD. Casting a quick look at her that was both confused and inquisitive, he powered up the PADD and set the heat shield in his lap. “Why are you collecting trash?”

“Shut up, and read, Archer.” She snapped, whisking his attention away with her fingers. Time was of the essence, getting him to focus on the task at hand was paramount and she would do whatever it took to get him there. The point remained that she was in no shape, or mind frame, to do this on her own. She’d made a promise, partially broken it, and now was doing what Almar had begged her to do: Collaborate. Use the tools in her tool box to get the job done. Be the Captain, not the martyr. It made her head hurt.

Archer’s mouth opened once to say something, but shut immediately once the information on the screen sprung up, reached for him, and drug him into it. The Carlotta stood out to him, her name turning up more than once and in all of the worst ways. Renegade numbers station coming back on line. Auction invites. A list of wares. A pregnant Stenellis. A female Vorta listed as ‘fertile, prime stock for breeding, pleasure, or profit’. He didn’t want to know what that profit was, but felt his stomach sink and knot as beneath her came listings of canned hunts of various species… Most of them Cardassians and Romulans. Most of them children or teenagers. He wanted to vomit. “Rochelle…” He whispered her name, not wanting to stop reading. The Carlotta… The Carlotta had been at the station, left the station… Had the Stenellis and the Vorta. His vision swam and he closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Rochelle…” again he whispered her name, but this time looked up and swallowed hard.

At the sound of her name the second time, she met his eyes and nodded – letting him know that she felt it. She knew. She understood. “It’s bad, I know.”

“It’s more than bad, Rochelle, this…” He held up the PADD, rapping it with his fingers, “This is horrific.” The PADD hit the table with a clatter, and all he could think about was that he was finding consolation in the fact that it wasn’t her on that ship, headed to that asteroid, to that sale. For once she was safe and sound and well within his ability to protect… So long as she stayed put.

“That’s why I’m sending you and Anaxar… It’s why you’re going to go to Stacker and bring Si’a home to us and Valeese to the station.” She replied, studying his face as she spoke, “And why you’ll end the threat and make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Her own head shook, emphasizing some of the hardest words she’d ever uttered. Her heart flip flopped in her chest, knowing the order she gave was unlike any other she’d ever given before. It had to be done. There needed to be a message made, something said out loud to the entire universe.

Swallowing hard, he got to his feet and made his way over to her bedside, “Do you know what you’re asking?” Reaching out he stroked a lock of hair back away from her face.

“I do…” she replied.

Archer nodded, and removed her glasses from her face, bending to press a kiss between her eyebrows, “Rest. I need you to rest and get better. I’ll get it done, but for now? You rest.”

Commodore Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NX 78213-F

Commander James Archer
Chief Executive Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NX 78213-F