JDL | CIO (Vindi), CIO, CSOO | CDR Archer, LCDR Stacker, LT Merlin | "Finding Waldo" (part 1)

Posted on Wed Mar 28th, 2018 @ 7:45pm by Commander Evan Merlin & Commodore Rochelle Ivanova & Commander James Stacker

Mission: Lacuna
Location: Interrogation Section | Deck 681 | Cold Station Theta
Timeline: SD 241803.28

After a look back over his shoulder, down the corridor, James let himself into the monitoring station and allowed the door to hiss shut behind. Inside he found two technicians and an analyst waiting for him. This was a small compartment, cozy with only four people inside and downright crowded at seven, given more over to electronic monitoring equipment and various other pieces of instrumentation which would study a subject out in the actual interrogation room.

It also happened to be the best location in all of the intelligence compartment - short of James' office - for even a casual debriefing. And James was not prepared to allow the strange Lieutenant into his office. He flicked his cuff up and saw he was running a few minutes early; as a result he was prepared to accept an offered cup of coffee, turning his head at the same time so as to allow one of the technicians to slide a discreet earpiece into his right ear.

"Show the lieutenant into the room," he said, nodding at the room on the other side of the glass, once the device was in place. "Let him know I'll be a few minutes. Has anyone seen Commander Archer yet?" There were shakes-of-the-head all around. He just grunted and took another sip of the coffee, letting it rejuvenate him. Last night had been another tiresome affair. Lots of tossing and turning, or periods where he had nothing better to do than stare out at the nebula or look at the ceiling.

Almost in reply, a nearby door opened and the Lieutenant in question appeared: his uniform neat, his hair tied back. One errant curl had escaped and periodically dangled down in front of his eyes before being tucked behind an ear again. He was looking intently at the PADD in his hand and barely looked up. He exchanged a few words with the person behind the desk, who pointed him to the interrogation room. The Lieutenant gave a very casual salute and sauntered into the room, settled in and continued to read.

Doughnut in hand, Archer strolled through Intel just off the heels of the Lieutenant, but made no move to follow him into that special room set aside just for him. Instead he took door number two, into the so called throne room where all the fun of recording and monitoring was done. This was Stacker's turf and, for now, he'd give him whatever length of rope he needed in order to get this dog and pony show off the ground. Except for the fact there was one thing niggling at the back of his mind that refused to give up. "So... Who's hosting the betting pool? I want to put money down on him banging..." He paused, looking over his shoulder at the weird Lieutenant. It wasn't that the man was a chud, but more so the fact that he was so unusual in both build and mannerism. The Empress seemed to have a penchant for Romulan tightwads and Merlin was the furthest thing from Maec Tr'Verelan there ever was, "Actually..." His head tilted, "Maybe not. Maybe, but maybe not. What say you, Stacker?"

The other grey collar grunted. He may not have agreed with the choice of language, but he was no prude himself. And he had to admit a certain level of suspicion in that direction, too: anyone who claimed to have gotten as close to the Empress, as the Lieutenant claimed, might well be involved with her. She was just too damned unpredictable, to say nothing of a reputed fierce and cruel temper, and a streak of ruthlessness that'd - allegedly - once had Cardassian Guls eating out of her hand. And didn't that make for interesting reading, too he thought as a longer pull of coffee let him organize his thoughts. "The man's five coils short of a warp nacelle. At this point I wouldn't put anything past him," he finally said, before heading towards the door to the hallway, and from there the door to the next room. "Playing with fire and bio-electric shocks included. Let's get this done."

"Right. Good talk." Pivoting on one heel, the more senior of the two agents following along at Stacker's shoulder. Five coils short of a warp nacelle. It nearly made him chuckle, and of course store the quip away for another time that he was certain would come up in the pressing future.

"Lieutenant Merlin..." Archer greeted him with a smile, separating from the other agent as soon as the doors slid shut behind them, "How have you been sleeping lately? My back's been bothering me and I was thinking about trying out one of those magnetic floating mattresses they've been peddling on the promenade. Stacker over here has been telling me not to do it, but I figured we'd ask you since you don't seem to sleep in one spot for too long and probably know if they're any good." Shots fired, but well enough concealed -- who was he kidding. He wasn't trying to conceal a damn thing.

The Lieutenant placed the PADD he'd been reading on the table and absentmindedly tucked the strand of hair, which had fallen forward again, back. "Oh, hai," he said. "You guys done with fiddling with the equipment in the other room, or whatever it was you're doing?" He leaned forward, rested both elbows on the table and placed his chin on his entwined fingers. "Sorry to hear about your sleeping problem, Commander. But I'm afraid I cannot be of much help, since I rarely sleep myself. Though my Denobulan roommate in the Academy claimed I snored. Seriously! Then again, he only ended up in my room after complaining about nearly every other roommate there was. Thank the stars another Denobulan showed up the next month, so they could room together." He gave a cheerful smile.

"Sir, we're not getting a consistent read on brain activity," said the little voice in James' ear. Outwardly there was no reaction, nor indication, that he was listening to such a thing, as he eyed the Lieutenant with a quirked eyebrow while it continued. "His species is an unknown, so we're going to have to rely very much on verbal cues and language. Examination of records, too." He gave a glance to the other grey collar, then back to the Lieutenant. He disliked being a killjoy, but in this case it seemed required.

"I think what the Commander's getting at is the nature of your relationship with Empress Xue’Daio," he said. "You said you'd spoken with her before the senior staff meeting. What about, precisely?"

"Oh!" the Lieutenant said, almost startled. He looked at Archer. "Why didn't you just *say* so? Really…" He shook his head. "Not that I quite get the connection between the Empress and back trouble, but I guess that's a prerogative of your department…" He made an airy wave with one hand, as if chasing the words away. "Um. Let me think. We started with talking about Merlin, actually, and Arthur… and about whether or not to make a point."

One of James' eyebrows quirked. That's the second time I've heard about ancient Terran history being discussed with a Stenelli citizen. Why're they so fascinated with our history? "I see." The voice was cool and precise. Whether or not he was taken in by the erratic personality was unclear. "Did your conversation turn, at any point, to Federation-Stenelli relations?"

"I just told you during the staff meeting, Commander," the Lieutenant replied, his tone bordering on exasperation. "You even commented on it." He looked at Archer. "As did you, I seem to recall. I believe it began with 'You did what?' The answer to that is 'We talked', Commander." He smiled sweetly. "There were no mattresses involved. Nor…" he began to tick off on his fingers, "carpets, couches, baths, desks or whatever else your mind might turn to."

Archer's face was deadpan right up until that point and a hand opened wide, pausing the situation. "You forgot kitchen counters, coffee tables, showers, anyway..." He shook his head, "What we want to know is how do you know the Empress and just what the fuck made you think it was alright to go in and talk to her about anything when the situation is only a rat's nut hair away from turning into an all out war?"

"Let's back this up a moment," James said from his chair. He leaned forward, tapping one index finger on the table. The other hand rested on the end of the arm of his seat. Whatever fatigue he'd felt earlier was forgotten now: he seemed more alive and engaged, now that he was in his natural element. "Lieutenant, I seem to recall you implying a discussion with the Empress about policy. You made it damned clear to everyone in the room that you were privy to her thought process. The Commander's right: just how do you know the Empress?"

"One sec. I mean, coffee tables?! No wonder your back is troubling you!" the Lieutenant exclaimed. "Ergonomically, kitchen counters are much better. Anyway." Again that airy wave of his hand. Then he tilted his head and smiled. "We're *friends*, Commanders. I went to visit her as a friend. Because with all that's been going on around her, she sure could use one."

"A lie," said the voice. "Unless he's magically escaped notice of Starfleet Intelligence for decades. Sir." The last word was added as a belated afterthough, but whomever was doing the talking sounded almost offended. For his part, he said nothing, merely listening to what it whispered in his ear while scrutinizing the Lieutenant. "And just how long have the two of you been 'friends'?" He may not have included a skeptical tone, but it was there nonetheless. "Before her arrival on the starbase?"

"After," the Lieutenant answered easily. "Why, is there a time limit set on when something can be called a friendship?"

Judging by the silence in his ear, it seemed fairly obvious - to James - that there was likely not much they could contribute at this juncture. He had confidence the voice would be back, when required. He also a growing sense; one that told him, with some unease, that this 'debriefing' was handling more like an 'interrogation.' Resisting the urge to frown, he glanced down at the tabletop. The lieutenant was a particularly uncooperative sort.

"So in the short time that she's been here," he finally said, glancing back up and across the table, "you worked your way into her confidence. Far enough as to be privy to her thoughts, or at least her inclinations."

Archer shrugged, looking towards Stacker, "I'll have to take up your advice about coffee tables. Sounds like you're an expert... At least enough to keep the Empress pleased as punch." Which, in and of itself was quite a feat. Though the last Archer had heard of her was that she'd been half dead and cradled in the arms of her Romulan husband when Psy'Daio Nox had been blown away. Was it possible that the Queen of the SeaWorld wasn't nearly as brutal as reports made it out to be? Or was this the real time version of the Taming of the Shrew?

"Listen let's wax philosophical, shall we? I'd hate to come down on this and ban you from going near her. I would. If your gilded dick is all that stands between us and war, whatever. Give it to her. But keep in mind that you've been around for only 13 years and we have no idea what and who the hell you really are, Lieutenant. The last thing we need is this turning pear shaped because we'll all." his index finger thumped against the table, "Be." Another thump, "Dead... Understand? We don't like that idea. We'd like to stay alive to, you know, find love, settle down, raise fat babies, and continue to explore the stars. So... Tell you what," He sighed, casting a quick glance towards his stone faced stick in the mud counterpart, "You keep us informed of her moods and sentiments, and we'll just pretend to over look you sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

"Ah." Now the Lieutenant leaned forward again and pointed a finger at Archer. "And that, gentlemen, is the problem right there. She is, depending whom you talk with, the Empress, their monarch, or an asset, a potential ally, a potential harbringer of war. She isn't a person, she is the embodiment of the Stenellis Empire, and as such she must be dealt with, information must be gathered, she must be manipulated, or coerced, or- Well, I'm sure your handbooks are filled with it. Nobody just sees her, the person, a one who, at the end of a long day, kicks off her shoes, or longs for her child's arms, or sobs for a lost friend.

"So, dear, no. I won't play the informer or the spy. I am going to be what I have been for her all along. A friend. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less. Now, if you ask nicely, I might tell you more about how the rest of our conversation went." He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and smiled. "So far, it seems that sarcasm, belittling and cursing don't really have much effect. Now there's this new diplomat assigned to the Vindicator, name of John Smith. Maybe you can talk with him about effective communication."

The chair made a noise on the floor as Stacker pushed it back, rubbing one knee before he stood up. "I'm afraid not. Because what you've failed to do is convince us that your information is accurate," he said, as he picked up his PADD from the table and slid it back into his thigh holster. He snapped the velcro strap back into place and patted it, much like one might pat a trusty companion who'd been with them through many a dark hour. And when he spoke, it was not the voice of Stacker, or even Stacker the Ghost, but Stacker the Gundog, veteran of conflict and dark hours at the border.

"Lieutenant, I want to believe that the Empress is truly going to sit back and observe, and watch, and let us make peace. But I'm not seeing anything from you to confirm that. All we have is supposition, and generalities. Your smartass comments, and wiseass smirk. And I'll be honest," he ground out, as his face twisted and he stared down at the seated man, "I want to reach across the table and slap that shit right off. Because you know what my next step is going to be? It's to go out that door, go back to my office, and it's going to be to file a fucking report with Starfleet Intelligence certifying that no, I have no intelligence to suggest the Stenellis won't retaliate against the Federation."

He stopped, and wiped his mouth, letting out a small chuckle that sounded both weary and bitter. "And you know what happens? We're going to burn, Lieutenant. Because I guarantee you that fleets will mobilize, and that means some junior-grade smartass lieutenant commander like you gets nervous, panics, and shoots. And then what happens?" he asked, in a continued tone that suggested he damned well knew what was going to happen. "Your friend? The Empress? She's going to become target number one. A decapitation strike. Because we might not win this war, conventionally, but I guarantee you desperate souls at some starbase are going to put that option on the table. And then your 'friend' is going to die, Lieutenant."

"So you can either fucking convince me, right now, that your 'friend' wants peace, or I go back to file my fucking report. Your call, mister," he added, borderline snarling, as rage almost flared in his eyes and one hand clenched until knuckles showed white.

The Lieutenant didn't look startled. No spike in hearts rate, or blood pressure, not even a blink. "I can talk with you," he said with a friendly nod to the furious Stacker. "But only because I can tell how deeply you care. For one person, Commander. For one. With you, on the other hand," he waved a hand towards Archer, not even looking at him, "I'm done."

His heart was beating a mile a minute, and there the minute shaking in his arm that silently whispered of how tight his muscles were, but now was the time to dial it back. Instinctively he knew this, knew that there was nothing further to be gained by staying so angry that logic was suppressed by rage. So James forced himself to unclench his hand. He stood there, flexing his fingers to get the blood moving again. "Commander, would you excuse us?"

"Yeah sure, fine, whatever. There's donuts out there." Archer snorted, rolling his eyes at the flagrant weirdo in the chair and looked at the other spook once before stepping out the door.

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

Lieutenant Commander James Stacker
Chief Intelligence Officer/Acting 2XO
Cold Station Theta, SB-1170

Lieutenant Evan 'Weirdo' Merlin
Chief Strategic Operations/Acting XO
COLD STATION THETA, SB-1170