08-13-2024, 12:02 AM
>> Docking Ring >>
Cera's fingers had remained wrapped around her wrist as they moved deeper into Artemis until it seemed the blonde was satisfied that Tyra would neither bolt nor fight their progress. Oddly enough, the loss of contact was jarring as if the touch had offered just a little anchor in what was otherwise a raging storm of confusion, frustration and simmering anger.
And suddenly unanchored, she felt lost at sea.
There were very few times in her life that she could truly say her brain had failed her. And usually, those moments had involved such extreme loss that it was only expected. Oh, there had been times when she'd been overwhelmed and it had been a battle to rise above the waves but instinct and training had always given her the time to catch up. And when those failed, sheer will had gotten her far. However, neither instinct nor training seemed capable of offering her any assistance at the moment and sheer will had absolutely abandoned her.
It was like the moment her first foot had hit Artemis' deck plating, her brain had lost its ability to reason through the situation. At least competently. Maybe even the moment she'd seen Cera. She honestly didn't know where the short circuit had occured but she needed to fix it before Cera dragged her to their destination.
What she knew was that Bill wasn't a cruel man, her near four decades of experience with him told her that. He could be calculating as a tactician, meticulous and levelheaded with the forethought to think moves and moves ahead, but maybe he hadn't foreseen this possibility. She was suppose to have met the Sally Ride, not Artemis, but the Al-Batani's issues had prevented that. Maybe this was just an unfortunate turn of events for her, nothing intended as cruel by anyone other than Fate.
Or maybe, Bill was giving her closure he felt she needed, though she didn't think she could stomach someone in her seat, even if only for the few days it took to drop her at her destination. Then again, he'd know that and she didn't think he'd do that to her. Unless... Unless it was Damian. She could handle him taking her chair and seeing that might soothe that last ache she hadn't been able to shake.
When Cera's steps had veered towards the briefing room instead of the back entrance to the ready room, she'd wanted to balk, dig her heels in and demand an explanation of some sort but neither her legs nor her tongue bent to her desire. Instead, her steps had continued obediently, even as her shoulders tensed. Her fingers had itched to dig an ear pod out of her pocket so that she had something for her mind to latch onto that wasn't a swirling vortex of jumbled thoughts but the briefing door looming ahead told her there was no time.
She almost missed the tiny smile Cera offered her over her shoulder as she reached the edge of the door's sensor. She'd almost forgotten that the blonde no doubt could feel every bit of tempestuous emotion cycling through her head and maybe that was why the smile reminded her of the smile Cera had always used with Evie, gentle and encouraging.
However, no amount of encouragement was going to save the redhead or so she determined within a step of entering the briefing room behind Cera. There was the briefest flicker of relief as she registered that nearly all of the faces were familiar, just where she'd left them, but it was short lived. By the time, her blue eyes had reached Damian and then, the woman at the front of the room, her heart was pounding in her ears.
She didn't need to ask who the woman was, she knew her. Her father had referred to the younger captain as Bill's pet project but having met her a handful of times at different functions, she'd stated that was unfair and unnecessarily derisive. Now though, she was willing to possibly change her opinion of Givens and possibly her feelings regarding Bill as well.
As Givens commented on her tardiness, Tyra fought the urge to bolt from the room. Her fingers curled tightly, nails digging into the flesh of her palms as she considered her options. There was a moment where her fingers found purchase on the side of her thigh, pinching ever so slightly with the hope that she'd wake up still safely tucked away in the Al-Batani's guest quarters, but there was no such luck. Instead, she was looking at a PADD being offered to her as if this was just a normal sequence of events.
The PADD felt heavy in her hand as she slowly took it, remembering another PADD that had felt inexplicably heavy in her hands. This one unlocked to her thumbprint and then, shifted to a familiar screen. And all she could do was stare at it, her forehead crinkling in confusion.
Her command codes sat there, her biometrics activating them automatically. Underneath the codes read words that set heavier than expected: Transferred from Captain Cassandra Givens, Acting Commanding Officer, USS Artemis to Captain Tyra Crawford, Commanding Officer, USS Artemis, Effective: 24408.08. Signed by Vice Admiral Bill Anderson and there was a short note under it that screamed Bill: Iacta alea esto.
It was an admission. He'd known exactly what he was doing, exactly what choice he was taking from her. Illusion of choice, truthfully. Maybe, there would never be a choice as long as she wore the uniform and it left a bitter taste in the back of her throat. However, the bitterness gave way to frustration quickly as the missing puzzle pieces became more obvious. Bill had never been a "knows best" type, not like her father, and he wouldn't have pulled strings on his behalf either.
"I don't understand…" She didn't actually mean to say anything as her free hand found its way into her hair but the words came out anyway, not that she expected an answer. "I have literally spent a week… over a week… being pulled from one ship to another with no explanation for the scavenger hunt for orders but 'trust me'. And I get sent here for what?"
She didn't expect Bill's proxy to actually answer, though the wry grin made Tyra want to physically wipe it off her face, but the tiny half shrug, evident relief, and her continued silence told her that Givens had been no more trusted with this plan than she had. In fact, Tyra had a sinking suspicion that her guide into her own personal Hell knew more than Givens did but this wasn't the venue for digging secrets out of Cera.
And she couldn't very well knock the relief off Givens' face without adding Damian to the list because he looked almost gleefully relieved. Actually, she might have to add a few names to the list but Damian wasn't even trying to hide his happiness at her arrival. Maybe, once she found a silent, dark corner to get herself together, she'd appreciate that but right that moment, she wanted to knock him down a couple pegs.
However, she didn't have a time to start assessing who needed to be added to that particular list or consider that she needed to work on a more useful list when Mara was at her elbow with evident concern. “Cap’n. You OK?” she asked. “We were just told that you were on indefinite leave and sittin’ this one out. And now, well, here you are…”
"Well, I can assure you--" she started dryly, appreciating Mara's concern but not exactly having an answer, but Mara had already turned her sights onto another target, Givens.
“Can someone please start explainin’ what’s goin’ on here? And no more of this 4D chess bullshit.” Mara imbued that one word with all the venom she could muster. “I saw the look on your face when Tyra came back in here. You were just as surprised as we were. What are you? Some kinda plant, just playin’ at bein’ a CO so some arsehole with square pips can get his rocks off?”
It was without much conscious thought that her hand shot out, her fingers wrapping around Mara's bicep as much as possible. It wasn't a particularly harsh or brutal grasp but it was firm and authoritative, probably resembling that of an exasperated parent to their unruly child. In fact, anyone that had seen Crawford with her own child had likely seen this particular maneuver in the moments before Evie surged into an ill fated idea.
"Stop," her words were quiet and were close to a hiss. They didn't carry anger per se but they held a sharp warning. Maybe Mara didn't see the danger looming but Tyra certainly did. For all the ease of underestimating her, Givens held the balance of power in the palm of her hands. "This isn't--"
However, her words never finished finding their way off her lips before the target of Calleja's anger finally seemed to have had enough. From what Tyra knew of Givens, she expected an explosion of anger or harsh words but instead, she watched the smaller woman lean forward on the front chair ever so slightly as her dark eyes bored into Calleja as if she was the only one in the room.
"I have been in your presence for less than thirty minutes and I have personally witnessed two tantrums that I wouldn't even find acceptable from a midshipman, much less a Lieutenant and much less my Chief. I can appreciate loyalty and I can appreciate this situation is difficult but I can't appreciate how someone with the emotional control of a tantruming three year old is wearing that jacket on this ship. If you can’t handle yourself in this controlled environment, you will be the knucklehead that brings this house of cards down at the first sign of adversity and there is nothing she," she waved at Tyra, "will be able to do for you. Is that what you want?"
The words rang cold and clinical, nearly surgical, to Tyra's ears and that surprised her. She knew what the rumor was regarding Givens' first command and how her hotheadedness had resulted in disaster. She'd expected to see that eruption in action; instead, she suspected she was witnessing proof of the following rumor that Givens had been forced into counseling that involved Vulcan techniques following the incident. Her expression was just as impassive and as unimpressed as if she had.
And without the context of what Givens was alluding to by referencing two incidents, Tyra found her gaze shifting to Coleman for some sign of how serious this was and how much catch up she needed to do.
== Tag! ==
Cera's fingers had remained wrapped around her wrist as they moved deeper into Artemis until it seemed the blonde was satisfied that Tyra would neither bolt nor fight their progress. Oddly enough, the loss of contact was jarring as if the touch had offered just a little anchor in what was otherwise a raging storm of confusion, frustration and simmering anger.
And suddenly unanchored, she felt lost at sea.
There were very few times in her life that she could truly say her brain had failed her. And usually, those moments had involved such extreme loss that it was only expected. Oh, there had been times when she'd been overwhelmed and it had been a battle to rise above the waves but instinct and training had always given her the time to catch up. And when those failed, sheer will had gotten her far. However, neither instinct nor training seemed capable of offering her any assistance at the moment and sheer will had absolutely abandoned her.
It was like the moment her first foot had hit Artemis' deck plating, her brain had lost its ability to reason through the situation. At least competently. Maybe even the moment she'd seen Cera. She honestly didn't know where the short circuit had occured but she needed to fix it before Cera dragged her to their destination.
What she knew was that Bill wasn't a cruel man, her near four decades of experience with him told her that. He could be calculating as a tactician, meticulous and levelheaded with the forethought to think moves and moves ahead, but maybe he hadn't foreseen this possibility. She was suppose to have met the Sally Ride, not Artemis, but the Al-Batani's issues had prevented that. Maybe this was just an unfortunate turn of events for her, nothing intended as cruel by anyone other than Fate.
Or maybe, Bill was giving her closure he felt she needed, though she didn't think she could stomach someone in her seat, even if only for the few days it took to drop her at her destination. Then again, he'd know that and she didn't think he'd do that to her. Unless... Unless it was Damian. She could handle him taking her chair and seeing that might soothe that last ache she hadn't been able to shake.
When Cera's steps had veered towards the briefing room instead of the back entrance to the ready room, she'd wanted to balk, dig her heels in and demand an explanation of some sort but neither her legs nor her tongue bent to her desire. Instead, her steps had continued obediently, even as her shoulders tensed. Her fingers had itched to dig an ear pod out of her pocket so that she had something for her mind to latch onto that wasn't a swirling vortex of jumbled thoughts but the briefing door looming ahead told her there was no time.
She almost missed the tiny smile Cera offered her over her shoulder as she reached the edge of the door's sensor. She'd almost forgotten that the blonde no doubt could feel every bit of tempestuous emotion cycling through her head and maybe that was why the smile reminded her of the smile Cera had always used with Evie, gentle and encouraging.
However, no amount of encouragement was going to save the redhead or so she determined within a step of entering the briefing room behind Cera. There was the briefest flicker of relief as she registered that nearly all of the faces were familiar, just where she'd left them, but it was short lived. By the time, her blue eyes had reached Damian and then, the woman at the front of the room, her heart was pounding in her ears.
She didn't need to ask who the woman was, she knew her. Her father had referred to the younger captain as Bill's pet project but having met her a handful of times at different functions, she'd stated that was unfair and unnecessarily derisive. Now though, she was willing to possibly change her opinion of Givens and possibly her feelings regarding Bill as well.
As Givens commented on her tardiness, Tyra fought the urge to bolt from the room. Her fingers curled tightly, nails digging into the flesh of her palms as she considered her options. There was a moment where her fingers found purchase on the side of her thigh, pinching ever so slightly with the hope that she'd wake up still safely tucked away in the Al-Batani's guest quarters, but there was no such luck. Instead, she was looking at a PADD being offered to her as if this was just a normal sequence of events.
The PADD felt heavy in her hand as she slowly took it, remembering another PADD that had felt inexplicably heavy in her hands. This one unlocked to her thumbprint and then, shifted to a familiar screen. And all she could do was stare at it, her forehead crinkling in confusion.
Her command codes sat there, her biometrics activating them automatically. Underneath the codes read words that set heavier than expected: Transferred from Captain Cassandra Givens, Acting Commanding Officer, USS Artemis to Captain Tyra Crawford, Commanding Officer, USS Artemis, Effective: 24408.08. Signed by Vice Admiral Bill Anderson and there was a short note under it that screamed Bill: Iacta alea esto.
It was an admission. He'd known exactly what he was doing, exactly what choice he was taking from her. Illusion of choice, truthfully. Maybe, there would never be a choice as long as she wore the uniform and it left a bitter taste in the back of her throat. However, the bitterness gave way to frustration quickly as the missing puzzle pieces became more obvious. Bill had never been a "knows best" type, not like her father, and he wouldn't have pulled strings on his behalf either.
"I don't understand…" She didn't actually mean to say anything as her free hand found its way into her hair but the words came out anyway, not that she expected an answer. "I have literally spent a week… over a week… being pulled from one ship to another with no explanation for the scavenger hunt for orders but 'trust me'. And I get sent here for what?"
She didn't expect Bill's proxy to actually answer, though the wry grin made Tyra want to physically wipe it off her face, but the tiny half shrug, evident relief, and her continued silence told her that Givens had been no more trusted with this plan than she had. In fact, Tyra had a sinking suspicion that her guide into her own personal Hell knew more than Givens did but this wasn't the venue for digging secrets out of Cera.
And she couldn't very well knock the relief off Givens' face without adding Damian to the list because he looked almost gleefully relieved. Actually, she might have to add a few names to the list but Damian wasn't even trying to hide his happiness at her arrival. Maybe, once she found a silent, dark corner to get herself together, she'd appreciate that but right that moment, she wanted to knock him down a couple pegs.
However, she didn't have a time to start assessing who needed to be added to that particular list or consider that she needed to work on a more useful list when Mara was at her elbow with evident concern. “Cap’n. You OK?” she asked. “We were just told that you were on indefinite leave and sittin’ this one out. And now, well, here you are…”
"Well, I can assure you--" she started dryly, appreciating Mara's concern but not exactly having an answer, but Mara had already turned her sights onto another target, Givens.
“Can someone please start explainin’ what’s goin’ on here? And no more of this 4D chess bullshit.” Mara imbued that one word with all the venom she could muster. “I saw the look on your face when Tyra came back in here. You were just as surprised as we were. What are you? Some kinda plant, just playin’ at bein’ a CO so some arsehole with square pips can get his rocks off?”
It was without much conscious thought that her hand shot out, her fingers wrapping around Mara's bicep as much as possible. It wasn't a particularly harsh or brutal grasp but it was firm and authoritative, probably resembling that of an exasperated parent to their unruly child. In fact, anyone that had seen Crawford with her own child had likely seen this particular maneuver in the moments before Evie surged into an ill fated idea.
"Stop," her words were quiet and were close to a hiss. They didn't carry anger per se but they held a sharp warning. Maybe Mara didn't see the danger looming but Tyra certainly did. For all the ease of underestimating her, Givens held the balance of power in the palm of her hands. "This isn't--"
However, her words never finished finding their way off her lips before the target of Calleja's anger finally seemed to have had enough. From what Tyra knew of Givens, she expected an explosion of anger or harsh words but instead, she watched the smaller woman lean forward on the front chair ever so slightly as her dark eyes bored into Calleja as if she was the only one in the room.
"I have been in your presence for less than thirty minutes and I have personally witnessed two tantrums that I wouldn't even find acceptable from a midshipman, much less a Lieutenant and much less my Chief. I can appreciate loyalty and I can appreciate this situation is difficult but I can't appreciate how someone with the emotional control of a tantruming three year old is wearing that jacket on this ship. If you can’t handle yourself in this controlled environment, you will be the knucklehead that brings this house of cards down at the first sign of adversity and there is nothing she," she waved at Tyra, "will be able to do for you. Is that what you want?"
The words rang cold and clinical, nearly surgical, to Tyra's ears and that surprised her. She knew what the rumor was regarding Givens' first command and how her hotheadedness had resulted in disaster. She'd expected to see that eruption in action; instead, she suspected she was witnessing proof of the following rumor that Givens had been forced into counseling that involved Vulcan techniques following the incident. Her expression was just as impassive and as unimpressed as if she had.
And without the context of what Givens was alluding to by referencing two incidents, Tyra found her gaze shifting to Coleman for some sign of how serious this was and how much catch up she needed to do.
== Tag! ==