Author's Note: Thanks again for reading. Just letting you know I'm throwing more wrinkles into this story with the inclusion of Brother Benny's USS Monarch. Hopefully he'll like what I do with the ship and crew.
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USS Monarch
Conference Room
Inci Battle Site
“It would be nice to know what the Alshain are doing with all those derelicts they’re not atomizing on the spot,” Chief Engineer Sofia Petrov whispered, causing Captain Benjamin Walker to grimace.
He leaned down, and muttered sarcastically, “Not in front of the guests dear.” The raven-haired Albanian chuckled, but Walker’s expression remained impassive. The ears of several of the Alshain in the contingent heading towards them perked up. The captain knew the lupanoids’ auditory acuity was better than Vulcans, and on par with Caitians. There was no way that they could’ve missed Petrov’s aside, but they ignored it all the same.
“Captain Walker,” the lead Alshain, a hulking, golden furred male, gingerly stuck out a large paw. Walker tried his best to grasp his hand around the mitt in a semblance of a handshake, but his hand was engulfed. “It is a pleasure to meet you at last. Your record during the Dominion conflict was quite exemplary.”
Walker respectfully dipped his head. “Thank you, Sutahr Byn M’Broth, but the pleasure has been ours. We only wish to help clean up this battle site, to safely remove unmolested ordnance, contain the environmental hazards of spilled or leaking fuels, and to salvage equipment and technology for future use.”
“Yes, of course,” M’Broth nodded. He shook his shaggy head. “It is unfortunate that it took this long for our War Ministry to clear a Starfleet team to assist us.”
“We could speed the work along faster if we were allowed to also take junked ships to the in system shipyard,” Petrov slid in, prompting another grimace from Walker and a snort from a member of M’Broth’s retinue.
“That eager to learn our military secrets,” rasped a wiry Alshain, with a russet mane. M’Broth growled low in his throat. The other man glared at him, obviously weighing whether to press the issue. M’Broth shifted his large frame and his red-furred subordinate stepped back.
“I see we both have issues with subordinates not knowing their places, eh?” M’Broth chuckled. Walker glanced at Petrov and saw the engineer’s cheeks reddening with anger. He knew she would want him to intercede, but he decided not to. Sofia knew how delicate relations were with the Exarchate at the moment and how much diplomacy had went into coaxing them into allowing Starfleet into the Battle Site. He didn’t want anyone on his crew to be the cause of turning all that hard work to ash.
Stiffly, Walker held up his glass of champagne, the tight cut of the white undershirt of his dress uniform riding up on him. He hated the recent getups, but he pushed his distaste to the background. “For a brief respite let’s leave work and politics and things beyond our pay grade behind us. And let’s toast to the completion of another successful day.”
M’Broth held up his own glass. “I concur.” Both Petrov and the dissenting Alshain reluctantly raised their glasses as well. After a few more minutes of small talk, the group of Alshain moved on, and Walker made his way to the exit.
Leza can handle it from here, he thought, glancing over to the far left corner of the spacious conference room. The tall, angular featured Trill stood out even among towering Alshain. Well at least Walker could just make out the brown mop of his first officer’s head. Astar was a natural at this stuff, he told himself, easing his conscience as he sought to leave the party early. He had a lot of work to catch up on and the spirits hadn’t helped the headache that had been blossoming in his head for hours now. But he was just seconds away from the door, and a quick nap, and a chance to refresh.
A light, but firm grip stopped him. Walker sighed inwardly, but kept his expression neutral when he turned around. “Is everything…”, he began.
“You know damn well everything isn’t all right,” Chief Petrov hissed. She was leaning close to him; too close. “You’re just going to let Alshain captain insult me like that?”
“You were out of line,” Walker shrugged, “as was his man. I couldn’t fault M’Broth’s logic.”
Sofia pulled even closer to him, and the captain began to feel uncomfortable. “What about what happened between us last night? How logical was that?”
Walker recoiled as if Petrov’s touch had become white hot, and a figurative sense it had. His stoniness began to crumble and his expression grew sharp. “We discussed that already,” he snapped. “It’s not going to happen again.”
“That’s what you said the last time,” Petrov smiled. She flicked an errant lock of her hair. “But you came back, and you will again.”
“I don’t have time for this right now,” Walker backed away, his legs rubbery. He hated how his weakness had led to this. Oblivious, the chief engineer pressed on.
“Make the time,” Petrov cooed. She leaned close to him again, pressing against him. Walker fought the urge to push her away, afraid such a sudden movement would attract attention. Instead he sidled around her. “I’m not going away Benjamin,” she said. “Unless….” She left the offer hanging.
“Unless what?” He asked, his headache forgotten.
“Let’s talk…in private.”
“No…I don’t think that would be best.”
Petrov sighed, “In your ready room then.”
“Once again,” Walker decided to stand his ground. “I just don’t think that would be wise Sofia.”
“Do you want your wife and children to find out about us?” The question cut through him like a knife. He staggered back, grabbing the edge of a table laden with food and beverages for purchase.
“You wouldn’t,” he muttered.
“Of course not,” Petrov smiled, but there was no humor in it. “If you do what I say.”
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USS Monarch
Conference Room
Commander Zammit sniffed loudly enough to draw Commander Leza Astar’s notice. “What’s got you riled Zam?” She asked the Bzzit Khaht chief medical officer.
The wiry, leather skinned alien cast his yellow eyes toward the room’s exit. Astar followed his gaze. She saw Captain Walker leaving the room, which was no small surprise to her. Benjamin wasn’t the most social animal. But more telling was that Chief Petrov was quick on his heels. “People are starting to talk,” Zammit snorted.
Astar frowned. “And just who are these people? And what are they talking about?” Zammit looked up at her, his gaze incredulous.
“Surely you can see it yourself, all the signs.”
“What signs?”
“You’re species is closer to humans in physiology and culture than mine is, so surely you can’t be so obtuse.”
Zammit had a penchant for being blunt and prickly so Astar took his poke in stride. “No,” she shook her head, “How about you educate me?”
He gestured toward a corner and Astar followed him. He craned his long neck around to insure privacy before speaking again. “Haven’t you noticed how friendly the captain and Sofia have been lately? How she invades his personal space in a way she never did before? Just this past week, I treated them both for holodeck sustained injuries; and when I took a look at the activity log I see that they’ve been combining their holodeck time together a lot lately.”
“Why would you be looking into that?” Astar asked suspiciously. Zam gave her a thin-lipped shrug.
“I like to be thorough,” he replied. Leza wasn’t pleased with the answer, but she didn’t want to get sidetracked.
“So, what’s this all about Zam?”
He leaned close to her. “Commander…Leza…I think the captain and Chief Petrov are having an affair.”
“Are you serious?” Leza did her best to put enough disbelief in her voice, but the Bzzit Khaht shook his head knowingly.
“I see you have already suspected something similar.”
“That’s not my place to say, nor should it be yours,” Astar replied. “They are both adults and their private lives are their business. It’s none of ours, and if you hear any more rumors, I don’t want you encouraging them. Morale is bad enough as it is coming out of the war.”
“But what about fraternization,” Zammit replied.
“What of it?” Astar shot back. “If there is something occurring between the captain and Sofia, which is mere speculation at best, as long as it doesn’t affect the operation of this ship then it is not worthy of discussion. Is that clear?”
The medic’s expression grew icy. “Is that an order?”
“What do you think?”
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USS Monarch
Captain’s Ready Room
“You’re not joking?” Captain Walker couldn’t believe the words Sofia had just spoken. Sofia leaned back in her chair, throwing her boots up on his desk.
“I want you to leave the Battle Site immediately and head toward the coordinates I’ve just supplied you,” Petrov said. From the conference room to the ready room, the woman’s entire persona had changed. A chill emanated from the woman and it made Benjamin want to shiver. She wasn’t the same person that had been his friend for years and only recently had begun sharing his bed. It was like he had been sleeping with a stranger. All pretenses had been dropped and there was a cruel set to her features that had never been there before.
“Why?”
“That is no concern of yours,” the engineer replied. “Do it, and after this is complete, I will request reassignment and you’ll never see me again.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Believe me, its best that you don’t know more than what I’ve told you.” Petrov slid her feet back to the floor and quickly hopped out of the seat. She planted both hands almost to the opposing edges of his desk and leaned close to him. At least her scent hadn’t changed. For a second, he saw a glimmer of the old compassion in her blue eyes. “Benjamin, I didn’t intend for things to turn out this way, believe me I didn’t. But I have orders, and a mission to carry out. I would rather do that with a no painful revelations…or worse, but I have my orders.”
“Who gave you these orders?”
Petrov sighed. “I can’t say.”
“Well then, I’m not moving anywhere then.” He sat back and folded his arms. “Not until you tell me what this is really all about.”
Sofia sighed more loudly. “Damn it Ben, why do you have to be so stubborn? But time is of the essence. I want you know that my superior is not going to be pleased.” She replied. She walked around to his side of the desk, and used her hip to bump him to the side. She quickly activated his desktop computer. When the screen shifted from the UFP emblem to a shadowy figure, Petrov glanced back and him and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
On the small screen a stout, Andorian female, with an admiral’s bar adorning her collar, glowered at them both before leaning forward. “Captain Benjamin Walker,” she rasped, “Welcome to Section 31.”
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