05-27-2024, 02:38 PM
== Post Mission ==
It has been three days since they'd made it back despite all odds to the contrary. Three days of feeling a heavy weight hovering over head, just waiting to crash down. Three days of wondering when the summons would come to answer for her decisions, necessary in her eyes but sins nonetheless. And she knew it was coming, that was the benefit of friends in the right places. It was also how she knew about her Chief Engineer's noble but flawed attempt to fall on a sword that hadn't even needed to exist, a revelation she had stewed on for the past three days. Three long, miserable days.
She'd basically spent that time holed up in her Ready Room. Some might say she was hiding, though hiding in plain sight hardly seemed like a wise idea. The truth was a little more complicated, a mix of trying to tie up loose ends before she was inevitably ripped out of the command chair and trying to not be at her house when that occurred, not exactly wanting that particular image for her family to witness. It was why she hadn't moved Artemis back to Sol from DS9 if she was being honest.
She was awaiting another meeting to set another thing right while she could when her door chimed. Without much thought, she'd assumed it was Damian or Cera, the only two truly brave enough to seek her out since their return, and hadn't hesitated to allow her visitor in.
Instead, her eyebrow arched as she took in her guest, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a smile worthy of the Cheshire Cat on his lips. He moved with confidence and poise as if he belonged in every room he ever walked into and if she hadn't intimately known better, she would have thought he was born with that smooth self-assurance.
"A little bird informed me that you might need to be talked off a ledge, dear," the guest offered, his tone melodic and practiced like the rest of him. Even his accent was practiced but it fit his public persona, a secret she was willing to keep for an old friend.
And Chase Demerick was about as old of a friend as they came. They'd grown up together, coming from similar family backgrounds and only two years apart. They'd attended mind numbing Starfleet events together as the future legacies of prominent families, sneaking little bits of fun as they could. They'd chased each other through corn fields, had gone to school together and had been virtually inseparable. He'd even been her first kiss at twelve, which they often laughed about. They'd entered the Academy together and that had been when their paths had veered in opposite directions. He'd climbed the ladder as quickly as possible while she had tried to avoid it like the plague, which was why he's was a Commodore while she remained a lowly Captain. However, while they might have been opposites in their public personas, they were still bound by loyalties that ran as deep as her veins.
She didn't need to invite him to make himself comfortable as he located her glasses and poured them both generous helpings of the amber liquid. However, it wasn't until he'd carried her glass up to the upper level and had pointedly indicated the opposite end of her couch from the one he flung himself onto that she moved from her desk, joining him on the couch.
Their conversations were always easy, no pretenses needed. He asked about her family and she asked about his. They compared notes on worthless older siblings and fathers that would never be exactly happy with them. They always seemed to reach the same conclusion, their fathers very likely would have preferred to have the opposite child as theirs. Chase, ever the politician and ladder climber, was the type of non-boat rocker that Jeremy Crawford would have preferred and Tyra, spirited and willing to toe the line, was what Max Demerick would have preferred as an heir.
Even when they pulled into silence, it was comfortable.
"What's taking so long?" She finally asked, blue eyes examining her glass before looking up at Chase.
He hummed, his shoulder raising a little in a rather unbothered shrug. Actually, from the way he slouched to the way his blonde curls fell over his forehead, he just generally looked unbothered and she wanted to smother him for it.
"There are two very popular theories and I think both have some merit," he finally answered with a flippancy that underscored the topic. "First, you are a walking nightmare for most of the brass, both professional and politically... and for some personally."
He took a drink of his whiskey, purposefully leaving the second option hanging for a moment. "Second, they don't have any evidence."
Tyra's spine went rigid as she leaned forward with an abrupt burst of movement. Her brows knitted together in a frown. "No evidence?"
His lips curved into that grin again, even though the glass hid all but the corners. "Not a piece. Well, except the confession that your dimwitted engineer sent. I'm told, when investigators got aboard the Philly to look into that cluster of a ****, they couldn't find any readings to corroborate the eyewitness testimony. There also wasn't any data from the bay that housed the Liberty Bell prior to her launch. I can only assume that somewhere between mutiny and stealing a ship, the Philly, being the faulty bucket of bolts that it is, suffered quite an odd memory storage failure. Truly baffling."
Tyra's spine released, only to allow her head to fall into her hand. If the bulkhead had been closer, she no doubt would have fought the urge to bang her head against it. Instead, she finished her whiskey in one large mouthful, her lips pulled into a disdainful grimace.
"That dumbass," her words punctuated by the glass being set down with more force than needed. It wasn't clear whether she was talking about Elias for his letter or Jenny for her attempted cover-up. "That ******* nitwit. So if he hadn't said anything ..."
"Home free. It would have been your word versus the Philly's eyewitnesses. And no offense, I don't think the Brass would put much stock in the statements of a crew that couldn't decide if they wanted to mutiny or wanted to steal a ship or wanted to actually do their jobs. They set the bar pretty low as reliable witnesses go."
She laughed but it was hardly a happy noise, more choked and incredulous.
She wasn't sure exactly when he refilled her drink or how exactly it ended up back in her hand. However, the burn of another mouthful was the only thing keeping her from seriously considering how much force it would take to choke one Benjamin Elias into unconsciousness.
"How do I fix this? Is there a way to fix this? He can't..."
"He made his bed," Chase cut her off. "I know loyalty and falling on swords is basically second nature to you but don't."
The change was almost instant, from lounging self-indulgence to aware, calculating and formidable. His elbows pressed into his knees as he leaned forward, all traces of relaxation and good humor gone.
"You are one of my closest confidants. You have been my moral compass more times than I can count and you have never led me astray so let me repay the favor. There is nothing you can do to save your idiot of an engineer. Nothing. His fate was sealed the moment he sent that confession but don't let him take you with him."
She started to open her mouth, to protest, but he moved lightning fast, his hand closing over her wrist and tugging just enough to stop her.
"If they want to take this opportunity to topple you, make them work for it. They have no evidence and limited options. The political and professional risks to pursuing this are enormous. They can try to be creative, dig up some skeletons, but I think they're all aware that any skeletons they might find will just lead back to them. Just by your very nature, you have them in an unwinnable position...use it."
The redhead took another sip, her head shaking side to side. "Politics isn't my game. In fact, I may be allergic…"
"Then, take some medicine because you do not have a choice. This is bury or be buried. I know you are capable of pure ruthlessness when it's required and this is no different. It's just a different set of tactics and fortunately, I'm here to help," the last part was said with that Cheshire Cat grin again, making her suspect that he was enjoying this more than she'd like.
The sound of her door chime going off caused Chase to sigh slightly, sitting his tumbler on the table. "No rest for the wicked, I see," to which, she hummed in agreement. "I'll let you get back to work, hun, but dinner? We have a lot to talk about and you might want to invite Cera. This is in her wheelhouse as well."
She sighed before nodding her agreement. She couldn’t say she particularly looked forward to lessons in politics but she also knew that Chase was likely right, she had a game to play if she hoped to stay alive and more importantly, keep everyone else out of the fire.
"Just make it somewhere with lots of alcohol," she offered with a wry grin as she got up, taking the glasses with her and part way escorting him to the door. His grin was knowing as he gave her a quick hug and a peck on the cheek.
Always a player of the game, he gave her time to stash the tumblers and bottle and straighten her uniform jacket before taking the step forward that would trigger her door sensor. He was careful to side step the young woman waiting outside, offering her a rather charming smile before shooting a wink back over his shoulder at Tyra, who was leaning against the front of her desk.
"Don't forget dinner, dear. I'll make sure Cera picks the loveliest of places for us," he called out with a smirk that told her he knew damn well what he was doing before disappearing.
There was a slight sigh and a shake of her head, even though the corner of her lip turned up ever so slightly.
"Ensign, you can come in. Please have a seat," Tyra motioned to one of the chairs across from her desk as she circled back around it.
== Tag! ==
It has been three days since they'd made it back despite all odds to the contrary. Three days of feeling a heavy weight hovering over head, just waiting to crash down. Three days of wondering when the summons would come to answer for her decisions, necessary in her eyes but sins nonetheless. And she knew it was coming, that was the benefit of friends in the right places. It was also how she knew about her Chief Engineer's noble but flawed attempt to fall on a sword that hadn't even needed to exist, a revelation she had stewed on for the past three days. Three long, miserable days.
She'd basically spent that time holed up in her Ready Room. Some might say she was hiding, though hiding in plain sight hardly seemed like a wise idea. The truth was a little more complicated, a mix of trying to tie up loose ends before she was inevitably ripped out of the command chair and trying to not be at her house when that occurred, not exactly wanting that particular image for her family to witness. It was why she hadn't moved Artemis back to Sol from DS9 if she was being honest.
She was awaiting another meeting to set another thing right while she could when her door chimed. Without much thought, she'd assumed it was Damian or Cera, the only two truly brave enough to seek her out since their return, and hadn't hesitated to allow her visitor in.
Instead, her eyebrow arched as she took in her guest, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a smile worthy of the Cheshire Cat on his lips. He moved with confidence and poise as if he belonged in every room he ever walked into and if she hadn't intimately known better, she would have thought he was born with that smooth self-assurance.
"A little bird informed me that you might need to be talked off a ledge, dear," the guest offered, his tone melodic and practiced like the rest of him. Even his accent was practiced but it fit his public persona, a secret she was willing to keep for an old friend.
And Chase Demerick was about as old of a friend as they came. They'd grown up together, coming from similar family backgrounds and only two years apart. They'd attended mind numbing Starfleet events together as the future legacies of prominent families, sneaking little bits of fun as they could. They'd chased each other through corn fields, had gone to school together and had been virtually inseparable. He'd even been her first kiss at twelve, which they often laughed about. They'd entered the Academy together and that had been when their paths had veered in opposite directions. He'd climbed the ladder as quickly as possible while she had tried to avoid it like the plague, which was why he's was a Commodore while she remained a lowly Captain. However, while they might have been opposites in their public personas, they were still bound by loyalties that ran as deep as her veins.
She didn't need to invite him to make himself comfortable as he located her glasses and poured them both generous helpings of the amber liquid. However, it wasn't until he'd carried her glass up to the upper level and had pointedly indicated the opposite end of her couch from the one he flung himself onto that she moved from her desk, joining him on the couch.
Their conversations were always easy, no pretenses needed. He asked about her family and she asked about his. They compared notes on worthless older siblings and fathers that would never be exactly happy with them. They always seemed to reach the same conclusion, their fathers very likely would have preferred to have the opposite child as theirs. Chase, ever the politician and ladder climber, was the type of non-boat rocker that Jeremy Crawford would have preferred and Tyra, spirited and willing to toe the line, was what Max Demerick would have preferred as an heir.
Even when they pulled into silence, it was comfortable.
"What's taking so long?" She finally asked, blue eyes examining her glass before looking up at Chase.
He hummed, his shoulder raising a little in a rather unbothered shrug. Actually, from the way he slouched to the way his blonde curls fell over his forehead, he just generally looked unbothered and she wanted to smother him for it.
"There are two very popular theories and I think both have some merit," he finally answered with a flippancy that underscored the topic. "First, you are a walking nightmare for most of the brass, both professional and politically... and for some personally."
He took a drink of his whiskey, purposefully leaving the second option hanging for a moment. "Second, they don't have any evidence."
Tyra's spine went rigid as she leaned forward with an abrupt burst of movement. Her brows knitted together in a frown. "No evidence?"
His lips curved into that grin again, even though the glass hid all but the corners. "Not a piece. Well, except the confession that your dimwitted engineer sent. I'm told, when investigators got aboard the Philly to look into that cluster of a ****, they couldn't find any readings to corroborate the eyewitness testimony. There also wasn't any data from the bay that housed the Liberty Bell prior to her launch. I can only assume that somewhere between mutiny and stealing a ship, the Philly, being the faulty bucket of bolts that it is, suffered quite an odd memory storage failure. Truly baffling."
Tyra's spine released, only to allow her head to fall into her hand. If the bulkhead had been closer, she no doubt would have fought the urge to bang her head against it. Instead, she finished her whiskey in one large mouthful, her lips pulled into a disdainful grimace.
"That dumbass," her words punctuated by the glass being set down with more force than needed. It wasn't clear whether she was talking about Elias for his letter or Jenny for her attempted cover-up. "That ******* nitwit. So if he hadn't said anything ..."
"Home free. It would have been your word versus the Philly's eyewitnesses. And no offense, I don't think the Brass would put much stock in the statements of a crew that couldn't decide if they wanted to mutiny or wanted to steal a ship or wanted to actually do their jobs. They set the bar pretty low as reliable witnesses go."
She laughed but it was hardly a happy noise, more choked and incredulous.
She wasn't sure exactly when he refilled her drink or how exactly it ended up back in her hand. However, the burn of another mouthful was the only thing keeping her from seriously considering how much force it would take to choke one Benjamin Elias into unconsciousness.
"How do I fix this? Is there a way to fix this? He can't..."
"He made his bed," Chase cut her off. "I know loyalty and falling on swords is basically second nature to you but don't."
The change was almost instant, from lounging self-indulgence to aware, calculating and formidable. His elbows pressed into his knees as he leaned forward, all traces of relaxation and good humor gone.
"You are one of my closest confidants. You have been my moral compass more times than I can count and you have never led me astray so let me repay the favor. There is nothing you can do to save your idiot of an engineer. Nothing. His fate was sealed the moment he sent that confession but don't let him take you with him."
She started to open her mouth, to protest, but he moved lightning fast, his hand closing over her wrist and tugging just enough to stop her.
"If they want to take this opportunity to topple you, make them work for it. They have no evidence and limited options. The political and professional risks to pursuing this are enormous. They can try to be creative, dig up some skeletons, but I think they're all aware that any skeletons they might find will just lead back to them. Just by your very nature, you have them in an unwinnable position...use it."
The redhead took another sip, her head shaking side to side. "Politics isn't my game. In fact, I may be allergic…"
"Then, take some medicine because you do not have a choice. This is bury or be buried. I know you are capable of pure ruthlessness when it's required and this is no different. It's just a different set of tactics and fortunately, I'm here to help," the last part was said with that Cheshire Cat grin again, making her suspect that he was enjoying this more than she'd like.
The sound of her door chime going off caused Chase to sigh slightly, sitting his tumbler on the table. "No rest for the wicked, I see," to which, she hummed in agreement. "I'll let you get back to work, hun, but dinner? We have a lot to talk about and you might want to invite Cera. This is in her wheelhouse as well."
She sighed before nodding her agreement. She couldn’t say she particularly looked forward to lessons in politics but she also knew that Chase was likely right, she had a game to play if she hoped to stay alive and more importantly, keep everyone else out of the fire.
"Just make it somewhere with lots of alcohol," she offered with a wry grin as she got up, taking the glasses with her and part way escorting him to the door. His grin was knowing as he gave her a quick hug and a peck on the cheek.
Always a player of the game, he gave her time to stash the tumblers and bottle and straighten her uniform jacket before taking the step forward that would trigger her door sensor. He was careful to side step the young woman waiting outside, offering her a rather charming smile before shooting a wink back over his shoulder at Tyra, who was leaning against the front of her desk.
"Don't forget dinner, dear. I'll make sure Cera picks the loveliest of places for us," he called out with a smirk that told her he knew damn well what he was doing before disappearing.
There was a slight sigh and a shake of her head, even though the corner of her lip turned up ever so slightly.
"Ensign, you can come in. Please have a seat," Tyra motioned to one of the chairs across from her desk as she circled back around it.
== Tag! ==