An Intelligent Transition - Part 2
Posted on Sat Dec 23, 2017 @ 2:22am by Lieutenant JG Andrus Grax & Captain Maritza Soran
Edited on on Sat Dec 23, 2017 @ 2:27am
2,152 words; about a 11 minute read
Mission:
Rumours
Location: Station Commander's Office
Timeline: MD 08 - 1030 hrs.
[ON]
Andrus Grax felt both at home and a complete stranger, as he traversed the operations centre of Deep Space Five.
The Celestial-class ops module was fairly standard and, although he didn't know the engineering specifics, he figured it could be interchanged with the Stardock-class modules with little difficulty. And, while the familiarity of the layout was comforting to him, he hadn't expected to ever be standing in a room like this ever again.
In fact, he nearly wasn't
Mikaela Locke had organised security clearance for him to access the primary ops turbo-lift, but a rather keen security ensign had almost wrestled him to the ground the second he alighted from it.
While his dark, plain civilian clothes and longer-than-usual, slightly unkempt hair gave off all the signs of someone who shouldn't be in the command centre of a major Federation starbase, he had, thankfully, thought to bring a PaDD with him, containing the official summons from Commander Soran. Ensign 'Wrestler' had eyed the documents with suspicion and insisted that he accompany Grax to the threshold of the CO's office - 'just in case' - and now he stood next to him, a good foot taller than Grax, having pressed the chime and awaiting Soran's response.
Grax glanced up at him, "Busy morning?" he asked casually. 'Wrestler' didn't answer.
"Enter!" commanded the crisp voice from inside, the door opening to reveal Soran in her neat uniform and tightly pinned braids looking expectantly through the door. She glanced to the officer hovering next to Grax. "Thank you, Claude."
Grax took a moment to pause, turn to Claude and offer a slightly over-the-top nod of the head. “Thank you, Claude,” he repeated with absolutely no hint of sarcasm, before stepping over the threshold of Soran’s office and stepping far enough in so as to allow the doors to slide closed behind him.
"Don't antagonise my officers," Soran said sharply the moment the door was closed. "More importantly, don't antagonise your colleagues." And do as I say, not as I do she added to herself ruefully.
"My apologies, Commander," Grax responded as genuinely as he could muster. Whether it was his intelligence training, or just his mistrust of people in general, lying had always come a little to easily to him. "Commander Locke informed me of her transfer," he continued, feeling that perhaps getting on to the matter in hand would be wisest course of action. "How can I be of service to you?"
"I need an Intelligence Chief." Soran replied. "Locke recommended you." Would he want to be part of Starfleet again? Would he want to take orders to someone almost half his age?
Grax remained expressionless for a few moments. Mikaela had already told him what the meeting was about, but he had wanted to here the invitation from Soran herself. How would she ask? From the little he knew of her, her approach didn't surprise him. All business.
For his part, it was a difficult decision - one that he was not one-hundred per cent sure that he had made even as he stood in Soran's office. The ghost of his former-Starfleet career still haunted him. There had been pain and betrayal and loss. At least in his current role he was on his own - no relationships and, subsequently, no one to get hurt on his account.
Eventually, he allowed his façade to drop slightly and he breathed out a heavy sigh. "My former Starfleet career did not end well," he said honestly, assuming that Soran would already know that. "A lot of good people died, because I made some bad decisions. Don't get me wrong," he continued, the steel returning to his eyes, "I'm damn good at what I do. I'm just not sure if putting the uniform back on is the best way to atone for my past mistakes."
"I'm not interested in your atonement, Mr Grax. I'm interested in keeping acts of terror in the history books and off the Promenade, keeping the hands of other powers off that planet down there and making sure the invasion fleet in all but name parked off our port side doesn't start anything that is going to cost a lot of lives to finish. Can help with that or not?"
Grax was slightly taken aback. He had expected Soran to be all business - direct even - but not quite so stubborn-minded. From his own experience, he was all too aware that a lack of compassion was not a great way for a newly-minted CO to earn any friends. 'She's still young,' he thought to himself, 'She'll learn...I did.'
And perhaps that was the problem. He saw something of himself in the young commander. Just enough to give her one more chance before he left her office and the station. He set his expression back to it's natural deadpan.
"I can," he replied, seriously. "The question you should be asking me is, do I want to?"
She raised an eyebrow. "And do you want to?" He hadn't walked out, so there was hope. She couldn't give him forgiveness or absolution or whatever he was looking for. Would he settle for a just a job?
"From what Mikaela's told me, you've got your hands full on this station. From what you've just told me, I think you know that you're in deeper than you thought you'd be." He paused to read Soran's expression, but it didn't change. "Contrary to what most people believe," he continued, "I'm not a complete asshole. I'll stay and I'll do the job, but I'll need some assurances."
"Such as?" she said, somewhat suspicious, but prepared to hear him out. She could always say no if it was something she couldn't agree to.
"I need to know that, whatever you think of me personally, you will always trust me when it comes to how I do my job. I'll do what needs to be done to keep this station safe and to keep the Federation safe - but I need to know that you've got my back."
Well that was a long leash. "As long as you do nothing illegal." The moral standards of the Federation had to be adhered to, even though she knew Intelligence could involve some fuzzier interpretations of that law.
Grax smiled mischievously, "If I do, I won't tell you."
Well, that was honest. "I can't afford coyboys," she warned. "Any thing too... extra judicial... is just going to play into their hands. Do you still think you can help?" She needed a clean win, but the ends in the case could not justify the means, the opposite in fact.
Grax thought for a moment. Part of the reason that S. I. had recruited him in the first place was because he was able to do things that other might not be able, or willing, to do in order to get the job done. It was a part of who he was. But then he was moved on to the command track. He had risen to the rank of captain and had been forced to operate within Starfleet parameters. And he had been successful at it... For the most part. He had adapted once before, there was no reason why he couldn't do so again.
"I believe that I can," he replied, truthfully.
"Technically, you're a civilian. I can reactivate your commission, but that will take time to work its way through the bureaucracy. The best I can do is put you in as enlisted and then brevet you to Ensign."
Grax smiled, not entirely sure whether Soran was joking or not, although the look on her face and the lack of humour emanating from her suggested that she was being deadly serious.
"Come on," he coaxed, "I know that, technically, I'm a civilian, but I'm also a former-Starfleet captain. I've commanded a station bigger than this one. I wasn't dishonourably discharged, and I've continued to work for Starfleet ever since. Now I'm not expecting to walk back in with four pips on my collar - that's not fair to you, or to anyone else on this station - but give me some credit..."
He knew Soran was trying to get a reaction from him, and she had. Maybe he was more attached to the uniform than he thought he was, or maybe it was simply his pride had been hurt. Either way he had risen to the bait before he had time to reign himself in. It was a mistake and he knew it... But now it was what it was. He decided to push forward with confidence, rather than appear to have lost his cool.
"And don't try and tell me that ensign is the 'best you can do,'" he continued quickly before she had time to answer, "You can give anyone any temporary rank you see fit while you wait for the paperwork. I know the rules, commander."
"I sincerely hope so, Mr Grax." She replied tartly. "Very well, in light of your previous experience, I'll raise you to Lieutenant JG. If the next few weeks go smoothly and I see progress on a number of station issues, I'll raise it to Lieutenant." she countered.
Having lost his usual cool once, Grax had no intention of doing it again. A junior-grade lieutenant was still ridiculous for someone of his experience, but could he use that to his benefit. A relatively low rank could mean that he wouldn't draw attention to himself and, he figured, he still had enough friends at Intel. Command to ensure he had access to information your average lieutenant wouldn't be let anywhere near.
He stared Soran down for several seconds. She was firm; resolute. He admired that - but he also felt the need to offer one last poke. After all, he could still walk away.
"Lieutenant commander," he said, with a smile. "Final offer."
She looked at him. She didn't know him, was taking a risk reinstating a stranger who had, technically, turned his back on the fleet and left. Without knowing more behind that, she had no intention of providing him with such an elevated title. "I am not going to haggle like some Ferengi, Mr Grax. I've made my offer. Accept it or not, but do not play around."
Grax smiled and nodded. Soran had stood her ground: he liked that. There was a resolve in the young commander that he admired. Of course the line between resolve and pig-headed stubbornness was a difficult one to walk, but it seemed that she was off to a good start.
After a few moments, he extended his hand. "I accept."
"Good," She looked down at the padd in front of her and made a few adjustments
Grax half raised a hand. "There is just one more thing..?"
She raised a deeply unimpressed eyebrow.
"At least give me half-decent living quarters?" His expression sunk. "I couldn't bear having to share with a spotty, twenty-year old, ensign..."
She snorted quietly, and made another adjustment to the padd, transmitted the relevant details to Starfleet. "Take this to the QM. I'm not going to promise you berths on the outer hull, but they should find you something suitable. We do have a little more room than your typical starship."
"I'm very grateful," Grax replied with as much sincerity as he could manage. "If I may, I'll go and get settled in, then."
Grax drew himself to attention, nodded smartly and left the commander alone in her office.
The doors slid closed behind him. He gave a slightly sarcastic nod to Claude-Wrestler as he walked past and headed toward the turbolift. And as he walked, a overwhelming sense of dread and doubt overwhelmed him. He'd gone through the meeting with Soran mostly on bravado - he never really had any intention of staying, but somehow she had talked him into it. Was she really that clever - or had he backed himself into a corner, whereby he didn't want to appear incapable? Either way, he'd committed now. To go back on his word would be appear to be weakness. Could he really wear the uniform again? Could he be the officer Soran wanted him to be? And why did he care what everyone thought of him so much? He never used to.
He entered the turbolift and the doors wrapped closed around him like a cocoon and, as he descended through the station's core towards the quartermaster's office, one question ran through his head again and again and again...
'What the hell have I just done?'
[OFF]
This transition was brought to you by
Commander Maritza Soran
Commanding Officer
DS5
&
Lt. (j.g.) Andrus Grax
Senior Intelligence Officer
Deep Space Five
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