Visitations and Felicitations

Posted on Tuesday February 25th, 2020 @ 9:01pm by Captain Franklin Johnson

3,470 words; about a 17 minute read

Mission: Shakedown Cruise
Location: To Start, Captain's Ready Room
Timeline: Post-Launch

[BEGIN]

Because diplomatic officers were not placed on every ship in Starfleet, there was an unofficial policy that their expertise be available for consult as the need arose. Not that everyone knew what it was that a Diplomatic officer could do; still, those that did, like Captain Rynott, called frequently and Ronan enjoyed the questions he posed. Ronan, being possessed with a restless, active mind that thrived on challenge, enjoyed those calls. At the moment, however, his desk was clear and the ongoing discussion over decorations and seating arrangements for an upcoming peace conference was taking up a great deal of his staff's time. To the untrained, it might sound trivial but when individuals met to discuss a peace they weren't at all sure they wanted, sometimes, the silliest things could derail the entire process. Their job was to make sure that didn't happen.

Because the Captain had asked to meet with him, Ronan had made his way directly to the Bridge and walked to the Captain's Ready Room door with the relaxed confidence that went along with being comfortable in his own skin. He pressed the chime and waited for a response.

Commander Franklin Johnson had come to terms that his Ready Room was, in fact, his quarters. That wasn't true in the slightest, not officially anyway; there was an available room and lodgings for him on the ship a deck below. The amount of work he spent in the Captain's Ready Room had led him to postulate that, perhaps, it had always intended to be such accommodations. At the end of the day, however, it was his office. He held memories here, both from good and ill, and enjoyed watching the viewscreen of space outside as the warp-bubble furthered its journey across distances. It was relaxing, if somewhat repetitive, which was why there was a multitude of options for it to display.

At the moment the door chimed, Franklin was standing in the center of his Ready Room. The large viewscreen was displaying a fireplace log, simulated from some unknown source with a very calming ambience of the combustion process. It was quiet, sincere of ones thoughts, and generally provoked a sense of concentration. His eyes downcast on his PADD as he read over another report, he blinked back to reality when he heard the chime.

"Enter!" he invited, setting the PADD down at the unexpected visitor - though truth be told unexpected had become the norm by now.

"Captain," Ronan said as he entered, the surprise he felt at seeing the Captain standing in the center of his office reading report was smoothed over behind the careful neutrality he had cultivated over the years. "You asked to see me?"

Thinking back, the surprise visible on Franklin's face was palpable only to the swiftness at which it resolved. He gave a smile after his moment of recollection, nodding. "I did!" he exclaimed, voice jovial and polite. "I did, I believe I did. How is our guest, Mr. D'Anvers? That was quite the situation we had I think."

"Yes, Sir," Ronan said as he scrubbed one hand through his tousled blonde hair, "it surely was. One minute I was explaining a ceremonial apology to Captain Rynott and the next, there he was." His green eyes went from mystified to shuttered as the curse that was his memory brought him around to the security officer. "Security seemed to think I had something to do with it."

"Security?" Franklin's eyebrow raised. There was an odd nudge at his thinking. "You mean Lieutenant Vladinchi?"

"Yes, Sir, Oscar Vladinchi." Ronan closed his eyes and replayed the conversation in his head, reciting what both had said, word for word, and finished with, "Why I bring this up is because this thing inside me is the reason I am alive, and when I observed the circumstances of the Gorn, the thing inside me kept giving the impression that somehow....you were connected."

Franklin eyed Ronan with suspicion for a moment, then realized the Syndarian had impeccable cognitive and recollection capabilities. Many species did, it wasn't a unique trait, it was simply unusual to see on display outside of a synthetic or android lifeform. He nodded calmly.

"Ah, that situation," he remarked idly. His gaze averted itself to the visual of the fireplace log. Slowly he adjusted his uniform. "Have you looked up the files on Mr. Vladinchi, Lieutenant? They should be freely available, including his history. If not I can skim over the details."

Ronan had watched the play of emotions across the Captain's face, one could hardly not, and marveled that he had said anything at all. His memory was not something that he was particularly proud of and didn't generally show off as though it were a trick or a talent. The security officer's suspicion had stirred something within him; that was the truth of it. Twenty-four years later, he thought, and they can still get to me. It boggles the mind, it does.

And although it seemed odd to converse standing in the center of an office, he answered easily enough. "No, Sir," he said, with a slight shake of his head, "I have not."

"Then perhaps we should settle in," the Commander remarked. "Would you like to take a seat? There's two guest chairs there, in front of my desk. I'm about to head to the foyer for some drink. What would you like?"

"Tea would be lovely," Ronan said and carried in the depths of his words was a bit of a sigh and just a hint of a smile. "Thank you." He walked toward one of the chairs, pulling out the PADD he was carrying as he did so; after setting the PADD, face down out of custom more than need, on one of the chairs, he dropped lightly into the other.

Five years old and already serving tea when his owners demanded he do so, Because he was careful and cute. Because it suited them to keep him up late. Dressed in clothes that made him feel awkward and itchy, moving slowly, while his troubled green eyes focused on the red-hued liquid threatening to breach the rim, his arm still burning from this year's branding. Wanting to taste and being told that drinks made from flowers would never be his.

Ronan forced the memories away with a practiced will and waited for the Captain to return, possibly solve the mystery of the suspicion raised by the thing in the security officer's head.

A moment later and the Commander approached the food replicator in the Foyer. "Virinatian Nut tea, with a Reman Slate Cracker and also traditional tea, Yorkshire, hot," he requested.

It was a bit of a leap to surmise what his guest would appreciate more, but he went with the thought that sprung up. The replicator was quick to work the procedure, replicating a tray with the required tea cups and amenities requested. It even went so far as to provide a pair of dainty sandwiches to compliment the cup of Yorkshire Tea. Gently grabbing the edges of the rather bland tray, he took it and returned to his Ready Room. Upon entering, he set it down nearest to Ronan, gently separating his Romulan variation next to himself and setting back in the opposite guest chair with a crossing of his leg atop the other.

Hefting a satisfied sigh, the Commander holding the cracker in one hand and the tea cup in the other gently dipped the cracker into the greenish liquid. A moment later, he nibbled it after it had softened, appreciating the tastiness. A sip straight from the cup ended the routine.

"My Chief Medical Officer prescribed this to me," he offered as way of explanation. "Traditional Virinatian Nut tea with a rather unique and tasty Reman Slate Cracker. I've honestly always been a fan of saltine crackers myself, and cold sweat tea, but Mr. T'vek has won me over. That and it keeps away my little issue for the moment."

Not elaborating further, he gently set his cup of tea down on the desk. Grabbing a napkin from the tray, of which there was plenty available, he set his slate cracker on that. Settling back again he crossed his fingers across his abdomen, relaxed and attention fully on Ronan.

"The situation surrounding Mr. Vladinchi is rather unique," Franklin began. "It wasn't an issue when it transpired, frankly, but it's something I clearly need to address sooner rather than later. To sum it up, Mr. Vladinchi served on this very ship during the Dominion War. He was injured in the line of duty, served honorably, and went on to other ventures. His last prestigious posting was on the USS Pennsylvania, a Nebula-class Starship under the command of Captain Frank Kamar, Junior not Senior. Oscar was assigned as the Chief of Security there.

Anyway, if you're familiar with the situation surrounding the Pennsylvania, they were assigned to scout the Delta Quadrant using the quantum or some sort of warp catapult. The report stated that the device made the journey from Alpha to Delta quadrants rather short, minutes even if I am to believe it, but I digress. When they arrived, they happened upon a Hirogen base of operations."

He let that last part sink in briefly before continuing. "I've heard reports of Mr. Vladinchi reflecting on those events as of being of Jem'Hadar origin, and my Chief Counselor assured me it had more to do with his PTSD than the memory itself. The ship logs from the USS Pennsylvania confirm it was a Hirogen slave base of some sort, but again, I digress. The point is he was sent in and ambushed, died trying to save two slaves, which turned out to be three. Two physical humanoids and one corporeal entity which now resides within him, temporarily trapped until we can figure out a way to release it safely - for both of their safety. We had assumed following the first few counseling sessions - I had assumed - that he had control over this."

A soft sigh as his fingers tapped the fabric of his uniform, eyes downcast for that moment before glancing back to Ronan.

"The way the Gorn came here was similar to how the computers describe the arrival of Oscar after the entity inside him transported him here. As far as we are aware, that process only happened because Oscar's deep attachment to this vessel, and at the time of death he recollected on an event here which...well...which resulted in him appearing here. We're still not very clear on the how or why of it all, but it happened. I can only speculate that he perhaps thinks you had something to do with the Gorn in that manner."

A soft sigh, then, "but in any event, I sincerely apologize for that situation. If you wish I can personally address this with Oscar and make sure it doesn't happen again."

Ronan leaned forward enough to take the remaining cup of tea and place it before him before settling back in his seat to consider the matter. "I doubt that was the case here though I can see how Mr. Vladchini might think so." Ronan shrugged ever so slightly, a slight wrinkle appearing on his forehead as he thought again about what he had seen. "It's not easy to interpret Gorn body language at the best of times but I'd have to say that he seemed more confused than anything. Certainly, I saw nothing that would indicate recognition of his surroundings."

He picked up his tea cup and blew gently across the surface before taking a long sip. "As for speaking with Mr. Vladchini, I would ask that you didn't, Captain. From what you've told me, he's already been through a great deal; I see no need to compound that. I'm not involved and that will become clear to him sooner or later."

Ronan cocked his head slightly to one side. "Its interest though that it happened twice. That kind of power ... its not easy to come by."

Franklin took a polite nip and sip, placing both cup and cracker on back. He allowed the swallow to settle before responding.

"Yep, twice, but there's actually a bit more to this than I'm allowed to say," Franklin said, his expression revealing that he struggled to hide a revelation. "I'll just say that this ship seems to be the center of a lot of odd situations, the least of which being a refitted Academy Training Ship. We're full of cadets in a ship that was designed for convoy duty. It's a new decade, better technology, but if I were to venture I'd surmise the ghosts of its past haunt it."

A moment of silence as he scratched at his chin. "Still, I find it odd that the Gorn didn't have some history here. As far as I'm informed, he's not from here - anywhere around here. We sent a packet to the Hegemony and received a reply from their embassy they'd look into it. However it was clear that whatever ship the Gorn said he served on never existed in their Empire before, nor has he or his stated family. He's an absolute unknown."

"And I won't," Franklin finally clarified, "talk to him, I mean. You're right, Oscar has been through far too much."

Ronan listened and more than that. To be that alone was something he understood very well indeed. Reluctantly, because it meant breaching a self-imposed barrier, he lifted up the PADD he held. "I put together a ... for want of a better word ... briefing on the Hegemony as it stands today. Culture, religious practices, etc. I was thinking of giving it to our visitor ...."

Franklin was quiet for a moment. The amount of consideration needed for someone to go to that great of a length was considerable. In the Commander's eyes, his Chief Diplomatic Officer just rose a few steps above a lot of people. With a humbled but appreciative expression, Franklin nodded.

"Would you prefer if I delivered it or yourself?" he asked, hand ready to reach out to grab the PADD if necessary.

"Probably better coming from you," Ronan said as he handed over the PADD. "It's a big adjustment to make. He doesn't need a whole bunch of people coming at him, however well meaning they might be and I'm incidental." He offered a slight grin as he added, "Whatever Vladchini thinks."

Franklin couldn't help but smirk, taking the offered PADD and setting it down beside him on the desk. He straightened his uniform casually and looked back to the Lieutenant.

"Are you going to make the Poseidon a hub for your diplomatic activities?" the Commander asked, changing the subject. "If so, can we expect visitors quite often or will the majority be conducted via communications?"

"Diplomatic officers aren't assigned to every ship and they aren't needed for every mission, so we fill in," Ronan said. He took a sip of tea and spoke over the top of the teacup. "The Poseidon comes first, of course, but when there's nothing else, we can answer requests. Mostly that's over comms. If someone wants one of us in person, I'll run that by you first of course."

Noticing Ronan taking a sip of his tea, Franklin almost instinctively followed suit. He dipped his cracker in first, enjoying half of it in a bite before drinking from his cup. When Ronan finished, he nodded in acknowledgement.

"I appreciate that, but what about situations concerning other governments? For example, we'll be heading close to Cardassian space soon. Are you authorized to engage in formal diplomacy?"

Franklin knew most of these answers, but a lot of it had been vague and unspecific. It was refreshing to have an opportunity to clarify.

"We serve as advisors primarily," Ronan said. "Let's say the Cardassians want to meet to discuss a disputed boundary. My job would be to prepare you for that meeting, even go with you if you want. I can provide a lot of information on Cardassian law, customs, and the like that will help you do what needs to be done. Knowing the cultural pitfalls before you go in, can help you get through the first part of the ... dance ... you could say. Diplomats. Fighters in a ring. Children in a schoolyard. It's about posture, about what you say and how you say it. The dance. And for some cultures, you lose automatically when you don't theirs."

The Commander nodded, taking a final sip of his tea as he gulped the remainder of the delicious Romulan liquid. He gave a gentle smack and lick to his lips as he savored the aftertaste, something more unique than his usual sweet southern tea, and pondered the implications of what was stated. It put on its head his prior assumption that the Chief Diplomatic Officer had authority in meetings; advisors changed the perspective and implications.

"That actually clears up a lot," Franklin said. "Thank you for that. I take it you're already familiar with professional discourse, are you also in any way qualified to address crewmembers or other personnel on a one-on-one basis? Similar to a counselor?"

"Yes," Ronan said, "and I can function as a diplomat if needed. Generally speaking though, when a starship shows up, the one everyone's looking to see is the Captain. Now, you could send me ahead to do preliminary work, get things organized in advance of your arrival. That gives you greater status and gives me a chance to lay the ground work."

Franklin nodded appraisingly. He gave a slight smirk at the thought of a greater status, but quickly tossed it aside. It was fun to amuse and entertain the notion but....no. He really shouldn't.

"Very good, Lieutenant," the Commander said with a bit of a jovial chip to his tone. "I like the sound of that, but also must ask you to help me humble myself in such situations. Regardless, I think I've learned a significant portion of what I wanted to. Do you have any questions for me? Anything I can help clarify? Perhaps any information I may be overlooking?"

"Nothing comes to mind," Ronan said as he finished off the last of his tea. He paused for a moment, a new thought springing to mind. "I'll prepare a second briefing package, one on the Federation itself, some of its history. Membership. Laws. The Prime Directive ... it will be available if he wants to know more."

The Commander nodded in consideration, raising an eyebrow at the implications. "Very well, do that, but in the meantime I think we've covered everything."

He stood and politely extended his hand with a smile. "Thank you for coming to talk to me today, Mr. D'Anvers. It is a pleasure to have you on board."

Ronan stood and took the Captain's hand. Shaking hands was one of those things he learned though not in his courses but from his teacher. Living on Earth, there were things you had to know. Idioms and customs that made the day to day so much easier. Handshakes were part of that. Firm but not crushing and yet not weak either with direct eye contact. Always the right hand because at one time, or so the tale went, it was the hand that generally held the weapon. Course, there was no data to back that up. Good story though.

And so, Ronan shook the Captain's hand, custom served, but at the same time, he smiled. One of the rare and genuine smiles that overtook sometimes. The smile wasn't about custom, that was about feelings. "Thank you, Sir. Its a pleasure for me as well."

Because he knew a dismissal when he heard one, he nodded and headed for the door.

The Commander stood and watched Ronan depart, having noted the smile. After Ronan disappeared into the foyer and the entrance closed, he turned and gazed at the PADD on his desk. His mind fell back to his previous thought, how one could be so considerate as to research so much for someone they knew very little for. Franklin eyed the PADD before, finally, sitting behind his desk and skimming through the contents.

As he briefly read segments, he came to understand just how lucky the Poseidon had been to attain such an individual. Giving a nod of affirmation to himself, he closed the PADD back to the beginning, grabbing his leftover dishes to deposit in the foyer, and afterward heading with the intent to deliver the information.

[END]

-----

Commander Franklin Johnson
Commanding Officer
USS Poseidon

&

Lieutenant Ronan D'Anvers
Chief Diplomatic Officer
USS Poseidon

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