Starship Reykjavík - An Idiot's Guide to Gunboat Diplomacy
- Thread starter Gibraltar
- Start date
* * *
Trujillo sat seething as Reykjavík threaded its way through the meteoroid field towards freedom from the debris disk. Her thirst for revenge was almost overpowering, but she suppressed it for the good of the mission and the welfare of her crew. Yes, they had rescued the Federation personnel from the remotest of the operation’s outposts, but it had cost the life of yet another Starfleet officer and the shameful surrender of someone Trujillo had sworn to safeguard.
Even Glal knew better than to approach her in such a mood, and she had quickly abandoned the bridge for the seclusion of her ready room.
Glal recalled her to the bridge roughly an hour later as the red alert klaxon blared.
She waved off the customary announcement of her arrival as she fastened the front flap of her tunic and took her seat. “What do we have?”
“A Bird-of-Prey has just decloaked in our path and we’ve detected three additional ships on approach. Our D-4 and D-7 of earlier acquaintance, and now a K’tinga-class cruiser,” Glal recited.
“We’re being hailed, sir,” Ops noted.
“Let them wait,” Trujillo replied, taking a moment to query the ship’s readiness for battle from her department heads. Once she was satisfied her ship and crew were prepared, she ordered the channel open.
Commander Verad sat atop the BoP’s throne-like command chair, his self-satisfied smirk having returned. “Commodore Trujillo, so nice to see you again.”
“I’m in no mood for games, Verad. What do you want?”
“I had meant to distinguish myself and my crew in battle against the Federation today, but it appears the cowards I allied myself with have decided to stand down now that you have so helpfully surrendered the traitor. Your other ships are leaving the system even now, and so you can clearly see my dilemma. Here I have a Federation vessel of some renown in my sights, and those outside this asteroid field can never know what, precisely, transpired within.”
“Ah,” Trujillo surmised, nodding. “You mean to destroy my ship and then trade upon your accrued honors. How very Klingon of you, Commander.”
Verad inclined his head as if accepting a genuine compliment. “I’m pleased you see the necessity of it.”
Trujillo smiled broadly, the gesture causing Verad’s grin to falter.
She touched both hands to her chest in a gesture of gratitude. “Commander, I thank you. As we left here today, I found myself nearly overcome by the desire for vengeance, but there were no means readily available for me to achieve it. Now, here you are, obstructing me and making threats when I have already met your demands.” She pointed toward Verad’s image. “On your belt, may I surmise that knife you carry bears the crest of your house?”
Verad glanced down despite himself, then looked back to Trujillo, his confusion evident. “It does, yes.”
“In that case, Commander, I solemnly swear that if you do not move out of my way, and that if you provoke a battle here with me, I will deliver that blade to the family of Lieutenant Jaron’Jesh on Andoria as some small token of compensation for his murder at your hands.”
“I have four ships,” Verad scoffed. “True, your starship is formidable, to be sure, but—”
Trujillo toggled a button on her armrest and explosions rippled across the hulls of the previously mined D-4 and D-7, sending them careering, shield-less, into nearby debris fields.
“You have two ships,” Trujillo corrected, “and you are still in my way. Move, or be destroyed.”
The communication link was abruptly terminated on Verad’s end.
“Open fire,” Trujillo commanded as Verad’s Bird-of-Prey began to cloak. Streamers of phaser fire raked across the scout’s nose, collapsing the bulkheads surrounding its forward torpedo launcher.
Multiple torpedoes from Reykjavík rifled aft towards the approaching K’tinga.
“Mister Glal,” Trujillo hissed between clenched teeth, “get me that knife.”
* * *
An hour and a half later, Reykjavík stood nose-to-nose with Kang’s flagship, T’Kuvma. The starship had just emerged from the PDD and had been about to establish orbit of Qo’noS when the menacing cruiser had decloaked directly in their path.
From Tactical, Jarrod said, “T’Kuvma’s shields are raised and their weapons systems are active.”
Trujillo rubbed her temples, a headache threatening. “Open a channel.”
“Aye, sir. Channel open.”
“General Kang, to what do we owe the pleasure of your unexpected presence?”
The viewscreen wavered and then showed Kang standing at the front of his bridge, his arms folded across his armored chest. He glowered at Trujillo from across the intervening kilometers.
He began without preamble, “You came all this way, braved all these dangers, only to surrender K’mpec to our enemies on the cusp our victory?” The disbelief in Kang’s voice was matched only by his contempt. “You handed him over in exchange for the lives of mere technicians?” Kang spat the final word, leaving it dripping with derision.
Trujillo rose from her seat, unconsciously tugging at her tunic as she did so. “Am I to understand that you take issue with my refusal to sacrifice the lives of dozens of Starfleet personnel for one man, General?”
“This is why the empire can never forge an alliance with your Federation,” Kang rumbled. “You have no honor, and your oaths are empty words. I was a fool to have trusted you.”
Trujillo snorted, dropping her head for a moment with a strangely curious chuckle. When her gaze came up again, there was steel in her eyes. “Let’s drop the pretense, shall we? I’ve played along with your little deception for as long as I could, but I drew the line at sacrificing more Federation lives in support of your fraud.”
“What do you mean?” Kang practically snarled the question.
“You are a patriot, General. I have studied you at length since I was a cadet. Having now met you in person I know with certainty that you would gladly die before entrusting the future of the Klingon people to Federation hands, no matter how desperate the circumstances. That was my first clue.
“Credit where it’s due, Physician Kardec’s genetic modifications to the man you handed over to us were better than Federation medicine believed was possible for your people. Placing him in cryo-stasis to exacerbate and explain away the damage to his genetic structure was very clever. Under other circumstances, it might even have worked.”
Her eyes bore into Kang’s, giving expression to the anger and frustration she’d held in check since entering the Klingon home system.
“What you clearly did not know is that when General Korrd, K’mpec’s grandfather, was taken hostage on Nimbus III thirty years ago the Klingon government reluctantly turned over Korrd’s DNA profile to Starfleet so that if he were killed the General’s remains might be identified. From that sample, my ship’s doctor determined that our guest’s DNA had been modified to make it appear as though he was a descendant of Korrd. Despite your efforts to mask those alterations we discovered them. The man I handed over was not K’mpec, son of Anag. He played the part flawlessly, and perhaps he may even have believed he was K’mpec, but you and I both know that to be a lie.”
Kang’s sneer evaporated and his face relaxed. He inclined his head towards Trujillo. “Well done, Commodore. You are correct. While our enemies were preoccupied with pursuing your ship, the real K’mpec was delivered safely to the surface some hours ago. He has already begun solidifying a power base from which to challenge his family’s enemies within the High Council.”
It was Trujillo’s turn to cross her arms. “And yet here you are, play-acting like some two-darsek Orion troubadour. To think that you had the gall to lecture me about honor, you feckless taHqeq.”
Kang’s expression darkened. “You would do well to watch your tongue, Human. I remind you that you are in Klingon space at our sufferance.”
Trujillo resumed her seat with a dismissive wave of her hand. “We have collected our people and I have had enough Klingon hospitality for one day. I will save entertaining hollow Klingon threats for another time, General.”
She reached down and picked something up that had been lying near the base of the command chair. Trujillo held a Klingon d'k tahg knife up and appeared to be admiring its edge. “In the remains of Praxis you will find three of your ships crippled and adrift. They sought to contest our egress from the PDD, and it proved necessary to demonstrate Federation resolve in its fullest measure.
“Sadly, Commander Verad proved sufficiently obstinate that we were forced to destroy his ship entirely. I’ve taken his blade as a trophy.” She made a point of inspecting the sigil on weapon’s handle. “House KaTaj’j has a rather handsome crest, don’t you think?”
Kang’s face was unreadable as he took a moment to absorb Trujillo’s words. Then the general offered a smile commensurate with the bellowing laugh he emitted. “You do not disappoint, Commodore. You have performed dual service to the Empire this day. Verad and his house vocally opposed K’mpec, and Verad’s death helps pave the way to K’mpec’s ascension.”
Trujillo said nothing in reply, and Kang returned to his seat. “You may depart with your trophy, Commodore Trujillo. I hope that at some future time when the Empire’s strength has returned that I might face you on the field of battle.”
“Though I may hope for such in my heart, General, my duty requires that I seek the path to peace.”
“Tell that to Verad,” were Kang’s parting words as the transmission ended.
“Helm, plot a course to rendezvous with the task force. Ops, inform Captain Kiersonn that our mission was a success, and then arrange to transport Kardec over to Kang's ship before we depart.”
Glal sidled up to her chair. “Would it be bad form to start adding the silhouettes of those Klingon ships to our hull before we’ve left their home system, sir?”
“We’ve tested our luck enough for one day, Commander, but I trust you’ll see to that task at the earliest opportunity.”
* * *
Trujillo sat seething as Reykjavík threaded its way through the meteoroid field towards freedom from the debris disk. Her thirst for revenge was almost overpowering, but she suppressed it for the good of the mission and the welfare of her crew. Yes, they had rescued the Federation personnel from the remotest of the operation’s outposts, but it had cost the life of yet another Starfleet officer and the shameful surrender of someone Trujillo had sworn to safeguard.
Even Glal knew better than to approach her in such a mood, and she had quickly abandoned the bridge for the seclusion of her ready room.
Glal recalled her to the bridge roughly an hour later as the red alert klaxon blared.
She waved off the customary announcement of her arrival as she fastened the front flap of her tunic and took her seat. “What do we have?”
“A Bird-of-Prey has just decloaked in our path and we’ve detected three additional ships on approach. Our D-4 and D-7 of earlier acquaintance, and now a K’tinga-class cruiser,” Glal recited.
“We’re being hailed, sir,” Ops noted.
“Let them wait,” Trujillo replied, taking a moment to query the ship’s readiness for battle from her department heads. Once she was satisfied her ship and crew were prepared, she ordered the channel open.
Commander Verad sat atop the BoP’s throne-like command chair, his self-satisfied smirk having returned. “Commodore Trujillo, so nice to see you again.”
“I’m in no mood for games, Verad. What do you want?”
“I had meant to distinguish myself and my crew in battle against the Federation today, but it appears the cowards I allied myself with have decided to stand down now that you have so helpfully surrendered the traitor. Your other ships are leaving the system even now, and so you can clearly see my dilemma. Here I have a Federation vessel of some renown in my sights, and those outside this asteroid field can never know what, precisely, transpired within.”
“Ah,” Trujillo surmised, nodding. “You mean to destroy my ship and then trade upon your accrued honors. How very Klingon of you, Commander.”
Verad inclined his head as if accepting a genuine compliment. “I’m pleased you see the necessity of it.”
Trujillo smiled broadly, the gesture causing Verad’s grin to falter.
She touched both hands to her chest in a gesture of gratitude. “Commander, I thank you. As we left here today, I found myself nearly overcome by the desire for vengeance, but there were no means readily available for me to achieve it. Now, here you are, obstructing me and making threats when I have already met your demands.” She pointed toward Verad’s image. “On your belt, may I surmise that knife you carry bears the crest of your house?”
Verad glanced down despite himself, then looked back to Trujillo, his confusion evident. “It does, yes.”
“In that case, Commander, I solemnly swear that if you do not move out of my way, and that if you provoke a battle here with me, I will deliver that blade to the family of Lieutenant Jaron’Jesh on Andoria as some small token of compensation for his murder at your hands.”
“I have four ships,” Verad scoffed. “True, your starship is formidable, to be sure, but—”
Trujillo toggled a button on her armrest and explosions rippled across the hulls of the previously mined D-4 and D-7, sending them careering, shield-less, into nearby debris fields.
“You have two ships,” Trujillo corrected, “and you are still in my way. Move, or be destroyed.”
The communication link was abruptly terminated on Verad’s end.
“Open fire,” Trujillo commanded as Verad’s Bird-of-Prey began to cloak. Streamers of phaser fire raked across the scout’s nose, collapsing the bulkheads surrounding its forward torpedo launcher.
Multiple torpedoes from Reykjavík rifled aft towards the approaching K’tinga.
“Mister Glal,” Trujillo hissed between clenched teeth, “get me that knife.”
* * *
An hour and a half later, Reykjavík stood nose-to-nose with Kang’s flagship, T’Kuvma. The starship had just emerged from the PDD and had been about to establish orbit of Qo’noS when the menacing cruiser had decloaked directly in their path.
From Tactical, Jarrod said, “T’Kuvma’s shields are raised and their weapons systems are active.”
Trujillo rubbed her temples, a headache threatening. “Open a channel.”
“Aye, sir. Channel open.”
“General Kang, to what do we owe the pleasure of your unexpected presence?”
The viewscreen wavered and then showed Kang standing at the front of his bridge, his arms folded across his armored chest. He glowered at Trujillo from across the intervening kilometers.
He began without preamble, “You came all this way, braved all these dangers, only to surrender K’mpec to our enemies on the cusp our victory?” The disbelief in Kang’s voice was matched only by his contempt. “You handed him over in exchange for the lives of mere technicians?” Kang spat the final word, leaving it dripping with derision.
Trujillo rose from her seat, unconsciously tugging at her tunic as she did so. “Am I to understand that you take issue with my refusal to sacrifice the lives of dozens of Starfleet personnel for one man, General?”
“This is why the empire can never forge an alliance with your Federation,” Kang rumbled. “You have no honor, and your oaths are empty words. I was a fool to have trusted you.”
Trujillo snorted, dropping her head for a moment with a strangely curious chuckle. When her gaze came up again, there was steel in her eyes. “Let’s drop the pretense, shall we? I’ve played along with your little deception for as long as I could, but I drew the line at sacrificing more Federation lives in support of your fraud.”
“What do you mean?” Kang practically snarled the question.
“You are a patriot, General. I have studied you at length since I was a cadet. Having now met you in person I know with certainty that you would gladly die before entrusting the future of the Klingon people to Federation hands, no matter how desperate the circumstances. That was my first clue.
“Credit where it’s due, Physician Kardec’s genetic modifications to the man you handed over to us were better than Federation medicine believed was possible for your people. Placing him in cryo-stasis to exacerbate and explain away the damage to his genetic structure was very clever. Under other circumstances, it might even have worked.”
Her eyes bore into Kang’s, giving expression to the anger and frustration she’d held in check since entering the Klingon home system.
“What you clearly did not know is that when General Korrd, K’mpec’s grandfather, was taken hostage on Nimbus III thirty years ago the Klingon government reluctantly turned over Korrd’s DNA profile to Starfleet so that if he were killed the General’s remains might be identified. From that sample, my ship’s doctor determined that our guest’s DNA had been modified to make it appear as though he was a descendant of Korrd. Despite your efforts to mask those alterations we discovered them. The man I handed over was not K’mpec, son of Anag. He played the part flawlessly, and perhaps he may even have believed he was K’mpec, but you and I both know that to be a lie.”
Kang’s sneer evaporated and his face relaxed. He inclined his head towards Trujillo. “Well done, Commodore. You are correct. While our enemies were preoccupied with pursuing your ship, the real K’mpec was delivered safely to the surface some hours ago. He has already begun solidifying a power base from which to challenge his family’s enemies within the High Council.”
It was Trujillo’s turn to cross her arms. “And yet here you are, play-acting like some two-darsek Orion troubadour. To think that you had the gall to lecture me about honor, you feckless taHqeq.”
Kang’s expression darkened. “You would do well to watch your tongue, Human. I remind you that you are in Klingon space at our sufferance.”
Trujillo resumed her seat with a dismissive wave of her hand. “We have collected our people and I have had enough Klingon hospitality for one day. I will save entertaining hollow Klingon threats for another time, General.”
She reached down and picked something up that had been lying near the base of the command chair. Trujillo held a Klingon d'k tahg knife up and appeared to be admiring its edge. “In the remains of Praxis you will find three of your ships crippled and adrift. They sought to contest our egress from the PDD, and it proved necessary to demonstrate Federation resolve in its fullest measure.
“Sadly, Commander Verad proved sufficiently obstinate that we were forced to destroy his ship entirely. I’ve taken his blade as a trophy.” She made a point of inspecting the sigil on weapon’s handle. “House KaTaj’j has a rather handsome crest, don’t you think?”
Kang’s face was unreadable as he took a moment to absorb Trujillo’s words. Then the general offered a smile commensurate with the bellowing laugh he emitted. “You do not disappoint, Commodore. You have performed dual service to the Empire this day. Verad and his house vocally opposed K’mpec, and Verad’s death helps pave the way to K’mpec’s ascension.”
Trujillo said nothing in reply, and Kang returned to his seat. “You may depart with your trophy, Commodore Trujillo. I hope that at some future time when the Empire’s strength has returned that I might face you on the field of battle.”
“Though I may hope for such in my heart, General, my duty requires that I seek the path to peace.”
“Tell that to Verad,” were Kang’s parting words as the transmission ended.
“Helm, plot a course to rendezvous with the task force. Ops, inform Captain Kiersonn that our mission was a success, and then arrange to transport Kardec over to Kang's ship before we depart.”
Glal sidled up to her chair. “Would it be bad form to start adding the silhouettes of those Klingon ships to our hull before we’ve left their home system, sir?”
“We’ve tested our luck enough for one day, Commander, but I trust you’ll see to that task at the earliest opportunity.”
* * *
Last edited:
That was a great scene. The banter between Trujillo and Kang was amazing. Verad got what he deserved. Today was a good day for him to die.
Alas for K'mpec's doppelgänger - I quite enjoyed him. Very nicely done. When Trujillo was handing him over, I figured that he had to be a decoy (although I suspected the doctor might be the disguised K'mpec.) I figured the only way the klingons would believe that Kang had entrusted the K'mpec to Star Fleet would be if someone close to Kang (and almost certainly under his orders) were to leak that information.
And kudos for the ST5 reference - my favorite of the movies (if no one else's) and for which I penned a blogpost:
Why Captain Kirk is the Greatest Hero in All of Fiction.
I'm quite amused by Trujillo's thirst for vengeance. She's a Star Fleet officer, but she's a throwback to a more primal sort of humanity. One with instincts to match the most blood thirsty klingon. And I quite enjoyed the volley with Kang - by far the more dangerous of the two confrontations in this story.
Thanks!! rbs
And kudos for the ST5 reference - my favorite of the movies (if no one else's) and for which I penned a blogpost:
Why Captain Kirk is the Greatest Hero in All of Fiction.
I'm quite amused by Trujillo's thirst for vengeance. She's a Star Fleet officer, but she's a throwback to a more primal sort of humanity. One with instincts to match the most blood thirsty klingon. And I quite enjoyed the volley with Kang - by far the more dangerous of the two confrontations in this story.
Thanks!! rbs
I think it's probably mine as well.
It's not the best movie of the franchise.
But I think it's the best or at least one of the most "Star Trek" of the movies.
I was thinking the exact same thing! Glad I wasn't alone.
As for Nandi's need for vengeance, I see it stemming more from the needlessness of the officer's death, on HER watch. It was just a show of grandstanding by Verad. I do wish we'd gotten the boarding scene, though.
I also agree with the praise for the verbal volley - I think Nandi's just learned that you should never meet your heroes...
You are correct as to the source of her need for revenge. Nandi was outraged by Jaron'Jesh's murder by Verad, so soon after the destruction of the Feynman during the task force's approach to Qo'noS. Oh, and there was no boarding action... they beamed the knife out of the wreckage of Verad's ship, post-mortem.
Last edited:
Thanks for the kind words. It wasn't applicable enough to mention in the story, but behind the scenes the Klingons used a variation of their mind-sifter device to copy K'mpec's neural pathways over his body-double, so in one sense it really was K'mpec they were dealing with.
That was most excellent!
Nice twist. I suspected something along these lines but perhaps not quite this. Should have known, since Klingons are not shy messing with genetics and such. This reminded me a bit of the Kahless clone in TNG.
Also, I think I've said it before, Trujillo was meant to be born Klingon. I'm actually surprised she didn't beam onto that Bird of Prey and got that trophy herself.
What a ride.
Also, I think I've said it before, Trujillo was meant to be born Klingon. I'm actually surprised she didn't beam onto that Bird of Prey and got that trophy herself.
What a ride.
* * *
Starbase 443, Altair III
The interior volume of this orbital facility was still under construction, with large gaps visible in the station’s superstructure through which stars and the planet below could be glimpsed.
Nandi Trujillo paused in the viewing bay just outside the gantry walkway to look back at Reykjavík’s graceful lines. Lost in thought, her eyes traced the contours of her command, its hull pocked and blackened in places with the evidence of recent battle.
Sharing the berth with Reykjavík was the Zelenskyy, both ships now festooned with portable drydock scaffolding and surrounded by repair craft and maintenance drones.
Trujillo was due for a meeting with Admiral Saavik in just under an hour, a precursor to the board-of-inquiry she had just been notified would be convened to investigate Operation Venatic and the events in the Qo’noS system.
“Commodore?” The question came from behind her and jolted her from her reverie. She turned to see Lt. Commander Eldred Withropp, commanding officer of Zelenskyy.
Trujillo offered him a half-smile. “It’s just captain now, Mister Withropp. Task Force Scythe has been dispersed.”
“Of course, sir, my apologies.” Withropp’s shoulder had healed weeks earlier and his uniform was free from the burns, tears and blood stains of their first meeting. His hair was cut shorter, and the early grey that had begun creeping up his temples was now more pronounced.
“I’ve been alerted to the board-of-inquiry, sir. I just hope you won’t be held to account for any mistakes on my part.”
“Thank you for saying so, Commander, but your actions were appropriate and my reports to Command stated that plainly. This is about my decisions and actions around Qo’noS.”
“In that case, sir, I’ll do whatever I can to support those decisions through my testimony.”
Trujillo shook her head. “No need to go out on limb to back me, though I appreciate the sentiment. Just tell the truth. I wouldn’t want you to damage your credibility with Command by blindly defending me, regardless of the circumstances.”
Withropp extended his hands, palms up, seemingly on the cusp of pleading. “You saved my ship and my crew. I owe you that, if nothing else.”
“You and your crew saved your ship, Mister Withropp.”
She reached out a hand and grasped the younger man above the elbow. “You’re a good captain, Eldred. You proved it that day against the Klingons, and every day since as part of Scythe. You’ve gained invaluable experience in the past few weeks, knowledge that will help inform your decisions and actions from here forward. Pass on what you’ve learned, as I did with you, and help mentor the next generation of leaders. They’ll need it now more than ever.”
Withropp relaxed fractionally. “Thank you, Captain. I will.”
“Have you located a candidate for your XO’s billet?” she asked.
Thrown off by the sudden change of topic, Withropp took a moment to answer. “Uh… no, no I haven’t. In fact, my next stop is the starbase’s Bureau of Personnel office. 443’s a major transfer hub for personnel moving out to assignments on the rim. If I’m lucky I might be able to poach a few people before their transfer orders are confirmed.”
“Well, if you’re not immediately able to find someone for XO, I might have someone who fits the bill.”
“Sir?”
Trujillo glanced at the chronometer display on the wall behind Withropp. “We’ll speak more, later. Can’t keep the admiral waiting.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you for your time, Captain.”
“It was my privilege, Commander.”
* * *
Trujillo came to attention in front of Saavik’s desk as the admiral’s adjutant departed the office, prompting a raised eyebrow from the flag officer who had stood to welcome her.
Saavik extended a hand in a very un-Vulcan like gesture, saying, “Please, Captain, take a seat.”
Trujillo shook her hand, finding Saavik’s grip firm and dry. The older woman was not yet middle aged for one of her mixed heritage and exuded an aura of vigor. Trujillo sat delicately into the proffered chair, still displaying a stiff formality.
“I’ve just completed my review of your after-action reports, Captain,” Saavik noted.
Trujillo offered nothing in response.
Saavik sat back in her chair, scrutinizing her subordinate. “Why does this feel as if you’re prepared for a dressing-down?”
“One-hundred forty-eight personnel died on a mission under my command, sir. Due in part to my actions, we and the Klingon Empire came close to the brink of war. I’m fully aware that a board-of-inquiry is being convened to pursue a fact-finding in regards to Operation Venatic.”
“All true,” Saavik affirmed. “However, you were sent on that mission by Admiral Markopoulos with my approval, after having uncovered Klingon duplicity in the attacks on non-aligned colonies in the run up to the Empire’s full-fledged offensive.”
Trujillo inclined her head, tacitly confirming Saavik’s interpretation.
Saavik stood and made her way across the room, opening a cabinet. Glasses tinkled and the admiral turned around with two drink glasses and a bottle of blue liquid. “Rumor has it you’ve a taste for distilled spirits. I only rarely indulge.”
Trujillo looked from the bottle to Saavik, her expression dubious. “That’s not…?”
“Strictly legal?” Saavik finished for her, placing a glass in front of Trujillo. “I’m half Romulan, and I received this as a gift from the Romulan attaché to the Barzan delegation. I am… exploring my heritage.” She poured a measure for the captain, handing the glass over with the barest hint of a smirk gracing her lips. “Rank hath its privileges.”
Trujillo raised her glass, mirroring Saavik’s own gesture, before taking her first tentative sip. Her eyes widened and she held the glass up, staring appreciatively at it. “This is far superior to the swill the Orions peddle as Romulan Ale.”
“That bootleg grog they foist off on naïve ensigns on their first tours?”
“The very same, sir,” Trujillo chuckled.
Saavik motioned for Trujillo to join her in the office’s spacious seating area, a low coffee table separating a couch and two comfortable chairs. Trujillo settled into one of the chairs with Saavik seated across from her.
“The first thing the board of inquiry is going to want to know is what happened with the Klingons inside the PDD?”
Trujillo took a moment to collect her thoughts before answering. “I had a Klingon commander blockade my ship and tell me that he planned to destroy it. A commander who held a four-to-one ship advantage over me in a situation that precluded my calling for reinforcements. I struck first, halving the threat force, and then gave him the option to back off. He chose instead to pursue his attack. His ship was destroyed, the other three were crippled and presumably later recovered by the Imperial navy.”
Saavik sipped at her ale, mulling that over. “Your recorded exchange with Commander Verad might be considered problematic.”
Trujillo cocked her head, replying, “I disagree, sir. He’d just executed a Starfleet officer in cold blood and was threatening to do the same to myself and my crew. Under the circumstances, I felt I was being very diplomatic.”
“You don’t like the Klingons,” Saavik observed.
Trujillo was surprised at that, her dismay evident. “Not at all, Admiral. Actually, I consider myself something of a Kronophile. I’ve studied their culture and history since I was a child. I understand them in ways others might not. I realize the Vulcan Hello has been verboten since our last war with them, but I felt it was applicable under the circumstances.”
Saavik held up a hand in a gesture of forbearance while suppressing a wince at the historical reference. “I’m not suggesting Verad didn’t force your hand, but a Starfleet officer voicing a desire for vengeance doesn’t play well with the public or the brass, Captain.”
A sober nod presaged Trujillo’s reply. “I’m unconcerned with how it ‘plays’, sir. Verad and I achieved crystal clear communication in that moment. I let him know that I was spoiling for a fight, but I wouldn’t engage unless he pushed me to it. Verad’s final lesson was that choices have consequences.”
Saavik seemed to ponder this. “Are you concerned about the board-of-inquiry?”
“That depends, sir,” Trujillo hedged.
“On what?”
“On whether Admiral Markopoulos will be on it,” Trujillo said bluntly.
“Vice-Admiral Markopoulos has been transferred to Logistics Command and is not available to participate in the board-of-inquiry,” Saavik relayed coolly. “He’s been posted to Starbase 14, effective immediately.”
Trujillo paused mid-sip, coughing politely into her fist. “You don’t say? LOGCOM? That seems a step down for someone of his ambitions.”
Saavik said nothing for a long moment, weighing the costs and benefits of candor. “It’s a lateral move, and he really does have good instincts for that kind of work. Despite his failings, Starfleet’s ultimately stronger with him than without him. Eventually it will result in a promotion to full admiral, but he’s finished in Operations Command. He cut too many corners with this scheme and allowed us to be drawn further into Klingon politics than was advisable. That’s a dangerous enough gambit when the Empire is at relative peace. In wartime it’s practically Russian roulette.” Saavik gestured offhandedly to Trujillo. “It was obvious that you were to be his sacrificial lamb if everything went wrong.”
Trujillo pursed her lips. “I’m relieved I’m not the only one to see that.”
“You did well, Nandi. In all frankness, there were others besides Markopoulos who thought you’d make a useful scapegoat after what happened last year with the Cardassians. I am relieved you proved them wrong.”
Trujillo spent a moment savoring the peculiar burn of the ale on her tongue. “I’m always happy to be a pawn in someone else’s game of political brinksmanship, sir.”
Saavik held her gaze unflinchingly. “You helped create that unfortunate situation with the Union because you thought you knew better than Command. This time, however, you tread more carefully. You displayed restraint, even when your blood was up. You could have destroyed all four of those Klingon ships instead of just Verad’s. I’m not sure you realize what a rare gift that is to a flag officer, being able to dispatch a subordinate into a complex situation and trust in their abilities and instincts.”
A smirk tugged at the corner of Trujillo’s mouth, courtesy of the potent drink in her hand. “This is beginning to feel like a job interview.”
“Well spotted, Captain. As it happens, this situation and other recent events which have seen us flirting with catastrophe have helped me to convince Command that in addition to diplomats and explorers, Starfleet occasionally needs talented soldiers at the ready.”
“An argument I’ve been making for years,” Trujillo offered.
“I’m well aware.” Saavik set down her glass. “This latest exploratory push will see many of our best and brightest commanders sent far beyond the Federation’s borders. I’ve insisted that we keep some percentage of them home, specifically those with established combat experience.
“I’ve been tasked with assembling a network of regional response teams staffed by capable starship captains who will be stationed throughout Federation space nearest anticipated hot spots. When activated, these officers will lead rapid response task forces to interdict border incursions, piracy outbreaks, and those more nebulous ‘interstellar emergencies’ that crop up from time to time.”
“Ancient weapons, god-like aliens, genocidal AI’s, sentient pathogens…” Trujillo listed off.
“Precisely.”
Trujillo set her glass down. “Where do I sign up, Admiral?”
“You just did,” Saavik confirmed. “The board-of-inquiry will be pro-forma and will be completed in three days’ time. I’m to understand Reykjavík is due for some crew rotation and routine maintenance?”
“Yes, sir. I anticipate some senior staff posts to fill in the coming days.”
Saavik’s expression was guarded. “Is everything okay aboard ship, Captain?”
Trujillo hesitated. “Not entirely, sir. My XO has been considering retiring to pursue a career in politics on Tellar Prime. He assures me he’ll let me know one way or the other within the next forty-eight hours. Additionally… I’m likely going to need a new chief security-tactical officer.”
Saavik’s raised eyebrow begged elaboration.
“It’s a personal issue, Admiral. Lieutenant Jarrod and I are romantically involved, but the situation has become increasingly complicated. I fear this mission was the breaking point.”
“That is unfortunate,” Saavik offered. “Please let me know if I can be of assistance in securing candidates to fill your vacancies.”
“I will, sir. Thank you.”
Saavik stood and moved to her desk, withdrawing a small case identical to the one Trujillo had presented to Shukla the previous week.
“It will be necessary for these rapid response officers to have sufficient rank to coordinate the assembly of task forces, sometimes outside real-time communications with Command. Accordingly, it must be a flag-rank position.” Saavik handed the case over to Trujillo. “Congratulations, Commodore Trujillo.”
Trujillo opened the box to examine the commodore’s rank pins, identical to the brevetted ones she’d surrendered just days before.
“This won’t become official until after the board-of-inquiry’s findings are released, of course. That will take no longer than two weeks. In the meantime, you can affect repairs and see to your personnel issues.”
She looked up to Saavik as she snapped the case closed. “Thank you, sir. I— I don’t know quite what to say.”
“No need to say anything, Nandi.” Saavik extended her hand once again. “Welcome to the admiralty.”
* * *
Restaurant Haute Orbite, Starbase 443 - Altair III
The circular restaurant was built to rotate fully once an hour, affording the patrons views of both the cavernous, partially completed interior bays as well as the Class-M planet the starbase orbited.
Trujillo and Jarrod, clad in civilian attire, sat at a window table. The night-side of Altair III was visible through the viewport, with the eastern continent and the Asindri island chain outlined by a scattering of urban light pollution.
“So…” Jarrod broached the subject they’d both carefully avoided all night thus far, “…you’re not worried about the board-of-inquiry?”
He was wearing a buttoned dress shirt and slacks, practically the nicest thing in his civilian wardrobe. Trujillo wore a simple, black A-line dress that was accentuated by a black choker necklace.
“I wouldn’t say I’m not worried. There’s just nothing I can do except offer testimony and answer their questions. It’s largely out of my hands.”
“You’re not concerned this isn’t some kind of setup?” Jarrod fretted in his slightly nasal Oxonian lilt which Trujillo secretly adored.
“If it were that serious I’d have been afforded JAG representation,” she replied calmly.
Jarrod’s expression suggested he didn’t quite believe her, but he allowed his attention to be diverted to a passing waitstaff carrying a champagne bottle to a nearby table. “Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?” he asked.
“I’m fine with water,” she said, the response accentuating Jarrod’s dubious mien.
He set aside his fork and pushed his salad away. “Okay, what’s going on? You’ve hardly said a word all night, but you insist the BOI isn’t weighing on you. They’ve got three-dozen varieties of Altair spirits on the menu, and you’re drinking water. In my line of work, these are what we call ‘clues.’”
Trujillo exhaled slowly, then offered a hesitant nod. “Okay, fine. I told you during the mission that I had a lot to sort out in my head, and I need to let you know what conclusions I’ve come to.”
He swallowed and sat back slightly in his chair.
“When we first became… involved, I thought I could compartmentalize that aspect of our relationship and keep it separate from the chain-of-command. And for a time, I was able to. But after the Esau recovery mission where you dragged me out of that cave, things started to change. I found myself increasingly hesitant to send you into harms way, to the point where I’d have to remind myself that putting you in potential danger is part of my job.”
Jarrod nodded slowly but remained silent.
“When you, DeSilva and Garrett were attacked in that shop, I rode the turbolift down to Sickbay praying to gods I don’t actually believe in that you weren’t dead. Then, when I found out it was DeSilva who’d been killed, I felt relief… relief!”
Trujillo glanced away, something like self-loathing etched on her features. She swallowed, collecting herself before looking back to him. “I love you. I love you so much that it tears me apart every time I have to send you into some situation where you might not come back. My thinking that I could keep Nandi and Captain Trujillo separate somehow was completely naïve. Having you aboard is interfering with my ability to command.”
Jarrod’s face had become a mask set in a frozen expression of regret. “I understand,” he said simply. “I was afraid this might happen ever since—”
“Marry me,” she blurted.
He blinked, stunned to silence.
“Marry me,” she repeated. “We’ll find you another assignment where you can achieve promotion without it appearing like nepotism. If we’re married, Starfleet will have to post us within fifty light years of one another. With all the leave time we’ve accumulated, we can get together three or four times a year, more if our ships end up at the same port of call.”
“You… you want to get married,” Jarrod said slowly, as if trying to divine a riddle.
“Yes, absolutely,” she breathed, reaching out across the table to take his closest hand. “I love you, more than I’ve loved anyone else in my adult life. I can’t be with you aboard the same ship, but I can’t be without you, either.”
“I love you, too…” he echoed.
“I know you’ve sacrificed to remain in this relationship,” Trujillo continued. “You’d easily have made lieutenant commander by now if you hadn’t chosen to stay aboard Reykjavík. You have all your command qualifications—”
“Yes.”
She froze. “Yes… you have all your qualifications?”
He chuckled, so unused to seeing Nandi flustered. “Yes, I will marry you. It’s absolutely what I want, but I’d never thought in a million years that you’d ask, or that you’d say yes if I’d asked.” His eyes twinkled with mischief suddenly. “Captain Nandi Jarrod… that really does roll off the tongue, doesn’t it?”
She squeezed his hand, her eyes brimming with tears of joy. “As much as I adore you, Gael, I still won’t hesitate to blow you out a goddamn airlock.”
“There’s my girl,” he laughed again.
* * *
Starbase 443, Altair III
The interior volume of this orbital facility was still under construction, with large gaps visible in the station’s superstructure through which stars and the planet below could be glimpsed.
Nandi Trujillo paused in the viewing bay just outside the gantry walkway to look back at Reykjavík’s graceful lines. Lost in thought, her eyes traced the contours of her command, its hull pocked and blackened in places with the evidence of recent battle.
Sharing the berth with Reykjavík was the Zelenskyy, both ships now festooned with portable drydock scaffolding and surrounded by repair craft and maintenance drones.
Trujillo was due for a meeting with Admiral Saavik in just under an hour, a precursor to the board-of-inquiry she had just been notified would be convened to investigate Operation Venatic and the events in the Qo’noS system.
“Commodore?” The question came from behind her and jolted her from her reverie. She turned to see Lt. Commander Eldred Withropp, commanding officer of Zelenskyy.
Trujillo offered him a half-smile. “It’s just captain now, Mister Withropp. Task Force Scythe has been dispersed.”
“Of course, sir, my apologies.” Withropp’s shoulder had healed weeks earlier and his uniform was free from the burns, tears and blood stains of their first meeting. His hair was cut shorter, and the early grey that had begun creeping up his temples was now more pronounced.
“I’ve been alerted to the board-of-inquiry, sir. I just hope you won’t be held to account for any mistakes on my part.”
“Thank you for saying so, Commander, but your actions were appropriate and my reports to Command stated that plainly. This is about my decisions and actions around Qo’noS.”
“In that case, sir, I’ll do whatever I can to support those decisions through my testimony.”
Trujillo shook her head. “No need to go out on limb to back me, though I appreciate the sentiment. Just tell the truth. I wouldn’t want you to damage your credibility with Command by blindly defending me, regardless of the circumstances.”
Withropp extended his hands, palms up, seemingly on the cusp of pleading. “You saved my ship and my crew. I owe you that, if nothing else.”
“You and your crew saved your ship, Mister Withropp.”
She reached out a hand and grasped the younger man above the elbow. “You’re a good captain, Eldred. You proved it that day against the Klingons, and every day since as part of Scythe. You’ve gained invaluable experience in the past few weeks, knowledge that will help inform your decisions and actions from here forward. Pass on what you’ve learned, as I did with you, and help mentor the next generation of leaders. They’ll need it now more than ever.”
Withropp relaxed fractionally. “Thank you, Captain. I will.”
“Have you located a candidate for your XO’s billet?” she asked.
Thrown off by the sudden change of topic, Withropp took a moment to answer. “Uh… no, no I haven’t. In fact, my next stop is the starbase’s Bureau of Personnel office. 443’s a major transfer hub for personnel moving out to assignments on the rim. If I’m lucky I might be able to poach a few people before their transfer orders are confirmed.”
“Well, if you’re not immediately able to find someone for XO, I might have someone who fits the bill.”
“Sir?”
Trujillo glanced at the chronometer display on the wall behind Withropp. “We’ll speak more, later. Can’t keep the admiral waiting.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you for your time, Captain.”
“It was my privilege, Commander.”
* * *
Trujillo came to attention in front of Saavik’s desk as the admiral’s adjutant departed the office, prompting a raised eyebrow from the flag officer who had stood to welcome her.
Saavik extended a hand in a very un-Vulcan like gesture, saying, “Please, Captain, take a seat.”
Trujillo shook her hand, finding Saavik’s grip firm and dry. The older woman was not yet middle aged for one of her mixed heritage and exuded an aura of vigor. Trujillo sat delicately into the proffered chair, still displaying a stiff formality.
“I’ve just completed my review of your after-action reports, Captain,” Saavik noted.
Trujillo offered nothing in response.
Saavik sat back in her chair, scrutinizing her subordinate. “Why does this feel as if you’re prepared for a dressing-down?”
“One-hundred forty-eight personnel died on a mission under my command, sir. Due in part to my actions, we and the Klingon Empire came close to the brink of war. I’m fully aware that a board-of-inquiry is being convened to pursue a fact-finding in regards to Operation Venatic.”
“All true,” Saavik affirmed. “However, you were sent on that mission by Admiral Markopoulos with my approval, after having uncovered Klingon duplicity in the attacks on non-aligned colonies in the run up to the Empire’s full-fledged offensive.”
Trujillo inclined her head, tacitly confirming Saavik’s interpretation.
Saavik stood and made her way across the room, opening a cabinet. Glasses tinkled and the admiral turned around with two drink glasses and a bottle of blue liquid. “Rumor has it you’ve a taste for distilled spirits. I only rarely indulge.”
Trujillo looked from the bottle to Saavik, her expression dubious. “That’s not…?”
“Strictly legal?” Saavik finished for her, placing a glass in front of Trujillo. “I’m half Romulan, and I received this as a gift from the Romulan attaché to the Barzan delegation. I am… exploring my heritage.” She poured a measure for the captain, handing the glass over with the barest hint of a smirk gracing her lips. “Rank hath its privileges.”
Trujillo raised her glass, mirroring Saavik’s own gesture, before taking her first tentative sip. Her eyes widened and she held the glass up, staring appreciatively at it. “This is far superior to the swill the Orions peddle as Romulan Ale.”
“That bootleg grog they foist off on naïve ensigns on their first tours?”
“The very same, sir,” Trujillo chuckled.
Saavik motioned for Trujillo to join her in the office’s spacious seating area, a low coffee table separating a couch and two comfortable chairs. Trujillo settled into one of the chairs with Saavik seated across from her.
“The first thing the board of inquiry is going to want to know is what happened with the Klingons inside the PDD?”
Trujillo took a moment to collect her thoughts before answering. “I had a Klingon commander blockade my ship and tell me that he planned to destroy it. A commander who held a four-to-one ship advantage over me in a situation that precluded my calling for reinforcements. I struck first, halving the threat force, and then gave him the option to back off. He chose instead to pursue his attack. His ship was destroyed, the other three were crippled and presumably later recovered by the Imperial navy.”
Saavik sipped at her ale, mulling that over. “Your recorded exchange with Commander Verad might be considered problematic.”
Trujillo cocked her head, replying, “I disagree, sir. He’d just executed a Starfleet officer in cold blood and was threatening to do the same to myself and my crew. Under the circumstances, I felt I was being very diplomatic.”
“You don’t like the Klingons,” Saavik observed.
Trujillo was surprised at that, her dismay evident. “Not at all, Admiral. Actually, I consider myself something of a Kronophile. I’ve studied their culture and history since I was a child. I understand them in ways others might not. I realize the Vulcan Hello has been verboten since our last war with them, but I felt it was applicable under the circumstances.”
Saavik held up a hand in a gesture of forbearance while suppressing a wince at the historical reference. “I’m not suggesting Verad didn’t force your hand, but a Starfleet officer voicing a desire for vengeance doesn’t play well with the public or the brass, Captain.”
A sober nod presaged Trujillo’s reply. “I’m unconcerned with how it ‘plays’, sir. Verad and I achieved crystal clear communication in that moment. I let him know that I was spoiling for a fight, but I wouldn’t engage unless he pushed me to it. Verad’s final lesson was that choices have consequences.”
Saavik seemed to ponder this. “Are you concerned about the board-of-inquiry?”
“That depends, sir,” Trujillo hedged.
“On what?”
“On whether Admiral Markopoulos will be on it,” Trujillo said bluntly.
“Vice-Admiral Markopoulos has been transferred to Logistics Command and is not available to participate in the board-of-inquiry,” Saavik relayed coolly. “He’s been posted to Starbase 14, effective immediately.”
Trujillo paused mid-sip, coughing politely into her fist. “You don’t say? LOGCOM? That seems a step down for someone of his ambitions.”
Saavik said nothing for a long moment, weighing the costs and benefits of candor. “It’s a lateral move, and he really does have good instincts for that kind of work. Despite his failings, Starfleet’s ultimately stronger with him than without him. Eventually it will result in a promotion to full admiral, but he’s finished in Operations Command. He cut too many corners with this scheme and allowed us to be drawn further into Klingon politics than was advisable. That’s a dangerous enough gambit when the Empire is at relative peace. In wartime it’s practically Russian roulette.” Saavik gestured offhandedly to Trujillo. “It was obvious that you were to be his sacrificial lamb if everything went wrong.”
Trujillo pursed her lips. “I’m relieved I’m not the only one to see that.”
“You did well, Nandi. In all frankness, there were others besides Markopoulos who thought you’d make a useful scapegoat after what happened last year with the Cardassians. I am relieved you proved them wrong.”
Trujillo spent a moment savoring the peculiar burn of the ale on her tongue. “I’m always happy to be a pawn in someone else’s game of political brinksmanship, sir.”
Saavik held her gaze unflinchingly. “You helped create that unfortunate situation with the Union because you thought you knew better than Command. This time, however, you tread more carefully. You displayed restraint, even when your blood was up. You could have destroyed all four of those Klingon ships instead of just Verad’s. I’m not sure you realize what a rare gift that is to a flag officer, being able to dispatch a subordinate into a complex situation and trust in their abilities and instincts.”
A smirk tugged at the corner of Trujillo’s mouth, courtesy of the potent drink in her hand. “This is beginning to feel like a job interview.”
“Well spotted, Captain. As it happens, this situation and other recent events which have seen us flirting with catastrophe have helped me to convince Command that in addition to diplomats and explorers, Starfleet occasionally needs talented soldiers at the ready.”
“An argument I’ve been making for years,” Trujillo offered.
“I’m well aware.” Saavik set down her glass. “This latest exploratory push will see many of our best and brightest commanders sent far beyond the Federation’s borders. I’ve insisted that we keep some percentage of them home, specifically those with established combat experience.
“I’ve been tasked with assembling a network of regional response teams staffed by capable starship captains who will be stationed throughout Federation space nearest anticipated hot spots. When activated, these officers will lead rapid response task forces to interdict border incursions, piracy outbreaks, and those more nebulous ‘interstellar emergencies’ that crop up from time to time.”
“Ancient weapons, god-like aliens, genocidal AI’s, sentient pathogens…” Trujillo listed off.
“Precisely.”
Trujillo set her glass down. “Where do I sign up, Admiral?”
“You just did,” Saavik confirmed. “The board-of-inquiry will be pro-forma and will be completed in three days’ time. I’m to understand Reykjavík is due for some crew rotation and routine maintenance?”
“Yes, sir. I anticipate some senior staff posts to fill in the coming days.”
Saavik’s expression was guarded. “Is everything okay aboard ship, Captain?”
Trujillo hesitated. “Not entirely, sir. My XO has been considering retiring to pursue a career in politics on Tellar Prime. He assures me he’ll let me know one way or the other within the next forty-eight hours. Additionally… I’m likely going to need a new chief security-tactical officer.”
Saavik’s raised eyebrow begged elaboration.
“It’s a personal issue, Admiral. Lieutenant Jarrod and I are romantically involved, but the situation has become increasingly complicated. I fear this mission was the breaking point.”
“That is unfortunate,” Saavik offered. “Please let me know if I can be of assistance in securing candidates to fill your vacancies.”
“I will, sir. Thank you.”
Saavik stood and moved to her desk, withdrawing a small case identical to the one Trujillo had presented to Shukla the previous week.
“It will be necessary for these rapid response officers to have sufficient rank to coordinate the assembly of task forces, sometimes outside real-time communications with Command. Accordingly, it must be a flag-rank position.” Saavik handed the case over to Trujillo. “Congratulations, Commodore Trujillo.”
Trujillo opened the box to examine the commodore’s rank pins, identical to the brevetted ones she’d surrendered just days before.
“This won’t become official until after the board-of-inquiry’s findings are released, of course. That will take no longer than two weeks. In the meantime, you can affect repairs and see to your personnel issues.”
She looked up to Saavik as she snapped the case closed. “Thank you, sir. I— I don’t know quite what to say.”
“No need to say anything, Nandi.” Saavik extended her hand once again. “Welcome to the admiralty.”
* * *
Restaurant Haute Orbite, Starbase 443 - Altair III
The circular restaurant was built to rotate fully once an hour, affording the patrons views of both the cavernous, partially completed interior bays as well as the Class-M planet the starbase orbited.
Trujillo and Jarrod, clad in civilian attire, sat at a window table. The night-side of Altair III was visible through the viewport, with the eastern continent and the Asindri island chain outlined by a scattering of urban light pollution.
“So…” Jarrod broached the subject they’d both carefully avoided all night thus far, “…you’re not worried about the board-of-inquiry?”
He was wearing a buttoned dress shirt and slacks, practically the nicest thing in his civilian wardrobe. Trujillo wore a simple, black A-line dress that was accentuated by a black choker necklace.
“I wouldn’t say I’m not worried. There’s just nothing I can do except offer testimony and answer their questions. It’s largely out of my hands.”
“You’re not concerned this isn’t some kind of setup?” Jarrod fretted in his slightly nasal Oxonian lilt which Trujillo secretly adored.
“If it were that serious I’d have been afforded JAG representation,” she replied calmly.
Jarrod’s expression suggested he didn’t quite believe her, but he allowed his attention to be diverted to a passing waitstaff carrying a champagne bottle to a nearby table. “Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?” he asked.
“I’m fine with water,” she said, the response accentuating Jarrod’s dubious mien.
He set aside his fork and pushed his salad away. “Okay, what’s going on? You’ve hardly said a word all night, but you insist the BOI isn’t weighing on you. They’ve got three-dozen varieties of Altair spirits on the menu, and you’re drinking water. In my line of work, these are what we call ‘clues.’”
Trujillo exhaled slowly, then offered a hesitant nod. “Okay, fine. I told you during the mission that I had a lot to sort out in my head, and I need to let you know what conclusions I’ve come to.”
He swallowed and sat back slightly in his chair.
“When we first became… involved, I thought I could compartmentalize that aspect of our relationship and keep it separate from the chain-of-command. And for a time, I was able to. But after the Esau recovery mission where you dragged me out of that cave, things started to change. I found myself increasingly hesitant to send you into harms way, to the point where I’d have to remind myself that putting you in potential danger is part of my job.”
Jarrod nodded slowly but remained silent.
“When you, DeSilva and Garrett were attacked in that shop, I rode the turbolift down to Sickbay praying to gods I don’t actually believe in that you weren’t dead. Then, when I found out it was DeSilva who’d been killed, I felt relief… relief!”
Trujillo glanced away, something like self-loathing etched on her features. She swallowed, collecting herself before looking back to him. “I love you. I love you so much that it tears me apart every time I have to send you into some situation where you might not come back. My thinking that I could keep Nandi and Captain Trujillo separate somehow was completely naïve. Having you aboard is interfering with my ability to command.”
Jarrod’s face had become a mask set in a frozen expression of regret. “I understand,” he said simply. “I was afraid this might happen ever since—”
“Marry me,” she blurted.
He blinked, stunned to silence.
“Marry me,” she repeated. “We’ll find you another assignment where you can achieve promotion without it appearing like nepotism. If we’re married, Starfleet will have to post us within fifty light years of one another. With all the leave time we’ve accumulated, we can get together three or four times a year, more if our ships end up at the same port of call.”
“You… you want to get married,” Jarrod said slowly, as if trying to divine a riddle.
“Yes, absolutely,” she breathed, reaching out across the table to take his closest hand. “I love you, more than I’ve loved anyone else in my adult life. I can’t be with you aboard the same ship, but I can’t be without you, either.”
“I love you, too…” he echoed.
“I know you’ve sacrificed to remain in this relationship,” Trujillo continued. “You’d easily have made lieutenant commander by now if you hadn’t chosen to stay aboard Reykjavík. You have all your command qualifications—”
“Yes.”
She froze. “Yes… you have all your qualifications?”
He chuckled, so unused to seeing Nandi flustered. “Yes, I will marry you. It’s absolutely what I want, but I’d never thought in a million years that you’d ask, or that you’d say yes if I’d asked.” His eyes twinkled with mischief suddenly. “Captain Nandi Jarrod… that really does roll off the tongue, doesn’t it?”
She squeezed his hand, her eyes brimming with tears of joy. “As much as I adore you, Gael, I still won’t hesitate to blow you out a goddamn airlock.”
“There’s my girl,” he laughed again.
* * *
Last edited:
Nice denomount - and a setup for more Trujillo in the future. Or would that be Commodore Jarrod?
Also enjoying the adequate accommodations for Markopoulos - savvy move on Saavik's part. Saavik, in this chapter, is a great study in leadership with a healthy blend of vulcan and romulan personality traits - a great character study.
Thanks!! rbs
Also enjoying the adequate accommodations for Markopoulos - savvy move on Saavik's part. Saavik, in this chapter, is a great study in leadership with a healthy blend of vulcan and romulan personality traits - a great character study.
Thanks!! rbs
The story has kept me riveted from the get-go. Seriously great work!
My earlier comments are on Facebook. However, I agree with the rest of the tribe. This is riveting.
A nice atta-girl from Saavik. Had no idea she was part-Romulan. That might help explain why she was more inclined to forgive her non-traditional approach to the Klingon crisis. Looks like everything is coming up Trujillo.
I actually preferred the second part. It was a nice piece of misdirection and also re-infused the character with a more human element that she understandably hides well while she is in command. I didn't quite see it going that way and it was a really satisfying conclusion to her personal dilemma. Nicely done. Now for the last question. Who's going to be Zelenskyy's next XO? I have my suspicions.
I actually preferred the second part. It was a nice piece of misdirection and also re-infused the character with a more human element that she understandably hides well while she is in command. I didn't quite see it going that way and it was a really satisfying conclusion to her personal dilemma. Nicely done. Now for the last question. Who's going to be Zelenskyy's next XO? I have my suspicions.
NOW you bring up sentient pathogens - I'm going to have to work that into something...
Thanks!! rbs
My pleasure!
I just figured that sounded like something from the pantheon of weird shit Starfleet's run across from time to time.
