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FAdm Red, COM Ravnsson | "Along Came A Shrike"

Posted on Thu Jan 28th, 2021 @ 5:33am by Commodore Aksel Ravnsson & Fleet Admiral Blyx Red
Edited on on Thu Jan 28th, 2021 @ 5:56am

Mission: A Distant Thunder

The hollow sound of pretty patent heels hitting highly polished deck floors resounded sharply through a seldom used corridor. They were black, patent leather, the soles as red as blood, and each step they took was practiced and deliberate, even and lacking remorse. The sound wasn’t like gun fire, gun fire was far too rapid. It was like a heartbeat or a clock ticking down seconds and intervals between life and death or love and war.

Blyx knew the way. The corridor had once belonged to a man she’d loved and lost. Aleksandr Dunross had been a rake, but he had also been a good and fair man who stuck by his word and never failed to deliver on a promise. His death had come as she’d often expected it would; when neither were prepared for it and neither wanted it. Long story short, his death had left but one heir to his chaotic throne and that heir had rapidly seated himself as a thorn in the baby soft skin of Blyx’s ass.

As dark as this new force may have been, Blyx stood firm as the light that shone throughout Starfleet. Her power was infinite in many ways as she stood singularly as the strongest presence the militaristic society had to offer. Not even the Commander in Chief himself commanded such a presence - and he knew it. She knew it. It simply had never become an issue.

“Aksel Ravnsson, as I live and breathe.” The clicking of the heels halted only when the man stood before her, staring out a window at the nebula no less. The scene made the baby fine hairs on the back of her neck stand tall, but to look at the woman one would never know of her discomfort or the suspicions that ran as cold chaos in her veins.

The Raven’s son turned to face his accuser, out of a need to be polite. He knew who she was by the sound and cadence of her footfalls. “Ah yes, our very own Fleet Admiral.” A smile touched the bright irises of his eyes and his hands gestured gently to her as if to bask in the glow the elegant woman produced. She was a beauty not unlike her niece, pure and unadulterated. A beauty that couldn’t be bastardized by time or cheap tricks. She held his admiration much in the same way she held that of the man who had filled his seat before him. Such a pity Dunross’ death had been.

“Indeed.” Her skin nearly crawled as he acknowledged her. If Xander was correct, she was staring Rochelle’s murderer in the face and the thought both burned and chilled her. Still, she managed a smile in greeting, “I should like to thank you personally for the work and effort being put in by Starfleet Intelligence. Commodore Ivanova was a shining example of success among Starfleet. An icon, really.” Oh how her stomach turned as she spoke, but to look at her there was nary a hint of such discomfort to be found. “To lose one of her stature and station is rather a cruel blow to our society and institution.”

“I have to agree,” Aksel nodded, his smile fading out of respect to the grim topic of choice, “My men are working around the clock to ensure that the crash site is secure and that any evidence of foul play be found, though we truly suspect that such an insult will not be added to the injury of losing your niece, Admiral.”
Blyx didn’t reciprocate the nod. She stood as tall as he possibly could, given the distinct lack of height her genetics had afforded her, with a stiff jaw and squared shoulders. It was a look that bespoke superiority and class, a reminder that she was the senior officer and he was nothing more than a pebble in her boot should push come to shove. Of course the tone of her voice held no such reminder or threat and her face remained quite neutral and soft.

Except for the eyes.

“Then you will agree with Admiral Hark and I when I state that our wishes are for the Liberty to be exhumed and brought in for thorough examination in a far more civilized and sterile environment.” Her lips curled further upwards, unable to contain her joy at snatching from him the control he held tightly to, “Would the crash have occurred on some remote planet outside of Federation space, we may lend credence to the desire for the site to become a tomb. Seeing that her body was not found within the wreckage…” She paused briefly for effect, “There is no reason for it to be declared a tomb. It would be both unfair to her memory and encourage thrill seekers to attempt to find her and take pieces of the wreckage as souvenirs. We’ve seen it in the past, have we not?”

The Commodore’s mouth went a little dry. His blood pressure crept a little high. In front of him stood another bump in his road and she was one not so easy to be rid of. He’d tried. Multiple times. He offered her an exasperated smile and shake of his head, “I assure you that the area would be monitored and surveilled. It’s quite remote--”

“Yes. Quite. Another reason why I should see fit to order that the USS Vindicator be allowed to retrieve the wreckage at its earliest availability.” Blyx cut him off, blinking several rapid times in her only outward display of irritation.

“I don’t think--”

“I’m not asking you to think, Commodore. I’m telling you to stand down and know that you’ve done your duty. Commodore Ivanova, like Captain Ivanova before her, was lost in tragic circumstances. The difference is that we have the ability to at least lay my niece to rest knowing we’ve explored all possible avenues rather than being left in wonder of what truly happened.” Her head tilted slightly as if to question whether or not her words had made it through his dense skull.

The El-Aurian nodded to show that he had, in fact, gotten the point. “I digress, Admiral. The wishes of her family do seem parallel with what would be best for the Federation’s public. Perhaps a more public ceremony in San Francisco like Admiral Archer has suggested would be better suited to a far away tomb.”

“Admiral Archer has already received our answer on that matter. We will not deny the public their chance to mourn, nor will we deny them the answers they so deserve.” His capitulation allowed the shrewd little woman to relax, if only a fraction of a percent, “My orders regarding the Liberty and the Vindicator will be issued within the hour. See to it your men stand guard until the wreckage is removed and then they are to have their full reports on my desk within twenty-four hours.”

“Yes, Admiral, of course."

The Shrike, in all of her glory, tipped her head in modest appreciation and respect before wordlessly taking her leave. He’d watch her as she left, with storm clouds brewing in his rich green eyes, until he could no longer see her and the sound of her heels had quit beating their staccato tattoo against his seething mind. It would seem that bravado and arrogance was a genetic trait among the Ivanova bred women. They’d been born to dive headfirst into things they had no business getting into and they never quite knew when to shut up and simply turn the other cheek.

Infuriating, though it was, it wasn’t the end. Not hardly.

It was time to pay a visit to an ‘old friend’.


Fleet Admiral Blyx O. Red
Commanding Officer
Beta Quadrant


Commodore Aksel Ravnsson
Commander, Starfleet Intelligence
Commander, Section 31


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