by Michael Blakeney and Gemini Lassiter
90504.12
…continued from part one
90504.12
…continued from part one
The message was conveyed with swift, efficient brutality.
[You're suspended,] TI Director Adam Galloway announced, without salutation or warning. [Braylan is filing formal misconduct charges against you. He says that you were not paying attention to your duties and allowed yourself to be distracted. He says that if you'd been where you were supposed to be that he would have escaped injury in the assassination attempt and those who perpetrated it would have been captured.]
Gem listened, too frustrated, shocked, and outraged to form even the introductory syllables of the beginning of a rebuttal. Besides, she thought, there was no one there, anyway, to hear it.
[You are not to go near Braylan, Temporal Investigations, or any other Starfleet office until these charges have been reviewed. At that point you will be informed of the time and location of the hearing to consider whether or not your actions constitute dereliction of duty worthy of general court martial. Galloway OUT.]
The transmission terminated, and Gem stood motionless, frozen through and completely numb, unable to believe what she'd just heard.
Blakeney, she thought, or whatever his name really was. It had to be his doing, all of this.
His fault that she'd been distracted.
His fault that she'd let Braylan slip even for a moment out of her reach. He had to be tied to the assassination attempt somehow.
Someone had sent him to take her out of the equation, only he'd been sloppy. Maybe he had allowed himself to be distracted, just for a moment, by her and that had been the reason that the plot had failed.
Whatever the answer, she had to find him. She had to find proof that it wasn't her fault.
She knew exactly why she was angry in this moment, but what she didn't understand was why, as she contemplated the very real prospect that her entire career may just have crashed and was now burning to its total destruction in the flames, the only thing she could truly remember when she thought back over the course of the evening's events was the look on Michael Blakeney's face- fleeting and barely perceptible as it had been- when she had turned down his invitation to dinner.
She realized suddenly that she was still cold, and looking down at her clothing, remembered why. She became aware of the mess all around her, a trail leading from the door into the middle of the living room where she slouched, more than stood. She grabbed a towel from the kitchen counter and dropped it to the floor, stepping out of her shoes and beginning to try to clean up.
There was a place for everything, and everyone, that Gemini Lassiter ever allowed into her life. She assigned them that place, and gave them no further license to go even a step beyond it. No one was allowed to know her, really. No one was allowed inside.
Why was it, she asked herself as she gave up trying to mop up the floor and retreated into the shower at last, did it feel like Michael Blakeney had taken one look at her, sized her up, and immediately became a thing for which there was no place.
He was a threat, something told her, to everything she'd worked so hard to build. Maybe he was a threat to the whole, fragile peace process that the politicians she loathed had worked so carefully to begin building.
Regardless, he was a threat, and he would have to be dealt with.
The first thing she had to do was find him.
-=A Small ship in orbit; unnoticed by Earth-bound sensors=-
Michael’s brief failure had been all but forgotten as he checked his reflection in the mirror. It was time for a bit of proper sport.
Hunting.
That meant it was time for some less formal attire. Were it not for the unfortunate turn of the weather in his chosen city he’d simply have rid himself of the jacket and gone with the classic look of the ‘professional’ ready to relax. Alternatively women loved a man in uniform, particularly when it was his frame inside, but his typical uniform was one he didn’t think your average woman was ready for yet.
It was a tough decision; he looked good in anything. But it had to come down to a sports jacket. It was a look that had worked for him before, dark blue which shimmered softly in the light. Each movement changed the reflective pattern capturing new light and new eyes alike. Once he had them looking it was down to him to do the rest and the rest was where he truly shined.
He adjusted the neck by the tinniest of increments back and forth towards the perfect position. Then remembering who he was, he released it and it inevitably fell in the exact location it was supposed to be. His shoulders were broad enough and his tailor was wise enough to ensure that any outfit was forced to behave itself.
He smiled to himself, a winning smile he was sure, and told himself that he was looking very good. The best part was that this design was at present only known in some of the more exotic star systems where those few brave men like him dared to go, so he alone would be wearing this tonight.
Satisfied with how he was looking he spun around and his smile was going nowhere as he realized that he wasn’t the only thing here looking good. These quarters, the Captain’s quarters of course, had originally been quite humble.
There’d been a standard issue bunk in the centre and entirely too standard entertainment systems. Naturally he’d disposed of the bunk in want of something better, a bed large enough for two or even three if luck was with him.
Though permanent alterations weren’t allowed, he’d had larger screens fixed onto the walls and the highest quality speaker system installed that he could get away with where he was now. He’d ensured the Replicator had all of the necessities of keeping a woman happy on file, from champagne to chocolate truffles to oysters should they be necessary. Now this place was ready.
He knew that given some of the technology on board he’d have to make sure any guests remained in his quarters for their stay. He laughed at the thought that he’d not even let them leave his bed. He anticipated a night ahead of a few meager challenges, a lot of success and most certainly a happy ending. His thoughts went to his strategy, to who’d be his type tonight but then annoyingly they decided to drift back to her.
Gem Lassiter, it’d just recently been no more than a name. Suddenly he couldn’t escape that she was a face, a perfume, a body and a touch he’d been denied.
Why one woman not wanting to take on the opportunity of a lifetime bothered him so, he didn’t understand. She’d just been like anyone else, should have been easily forgotten, and it was confusing how strongly she refused to be. He shook his head as he picked up his glass, and told himself that he shouldn’t think about it anymore.
It wasn’t a strong drink, just a little bit of a loosener; Mr. Jack Daniels would be accompanying him tonight. It was almost time to head down but first he had to suffer through the unhappy task of seeing to a few of the tedious duties that came with the job.
His mission had been to neutralize a threat and now there was a process to confirm he’d done so. His higher-ups hadn’t told him much, but he’d done this enough times to figure it out. They had plans for how things were supposed to go, who’d do what and how they’d do it.
Whenever things didn’t work out how they expected then it was his job to clean up the mess, to find out who or what had caused things to go off track and to do whatever it took to put them back again. Inevitably they kept him in the dark about the larger picture-- sometimes when it really mattered.
The consequences of his actions weren’t something he spent a lot of time thinking of, but he at least wished he had that option. It bothered him, but not nearly as much as he was bothered by his thoughts still refusing to leave that woman. When the chance had been missed there was nothing worse than having to continue to watch it in the distance.
He finished the last dregs of Jack in the bottom of his glass as he continued on to the cockpit. This was a small ship but it was very empty and Michael was not used to being alone. It was too quiet in here, that was the problem. Quiet, like emptiness, was something he told himself simply needed to be filled.
“Computer, how about some music?” he said softly, with just a touch of gruffness.
^Specify^
He considered the automated request and realized he really didn’t know what he was in the mood for at the moment.
The introductory notes of Moonlight Serenade kept coming to mind, refusing his attempts to dismiss them and stubbornly leading him again to thoughts he didn’t want.
Never one to go where he didn’t want, “Never mind,” was the response he finally settled on.
He retrieved another glass from the replicator, which he placed on the panel in front of him as he eased down into the seat.
Before him was spectacular view of the Earth, night and day, hot and cold, infinite complexity with shrinking pockets of simplicity dotted through out.
Were this another time then maybe he would have allowed himself to enjoy it, but as it was he didn’t even let himself look. There was no point reminding himself of something he was even just temporarily missing out on.
In his hand he had a PADD with a list of the things he had to do to put this mission to bed. Normally he was much more likely to choose fun first and work later, but he knew there would be a time stamp and he had to at least appear to be following the rules on this one.
Most of it was just recording his actions thus far; where he’d gone and what he’d done. He brushed over the paperwork with as little detail as he could get away with. He wanted to get it done quickly for many reasons but mainly because he had a city to make his mark on and even he required a little bit of time to accomplish that.
After twenty minutes which felt like an eternity he was finally done except for one single last formality. From a hidden drawer, accessible by security code, he released and removed his compass.
In one smooth motion he absently flipped it open and whatever smile remained instantly abandoned his countenance.
It said his work was still not done.
Saving the ambassador hadn’t set things straight and so there was still something he had to do. The problem was that he didn’t know what. He didn’t even know where he was supposed to go now.
Frustrated, he cursed explicitly, shut it again and was about to drop it back into the drawer. Before he did, though, something caught his eye. Something partially obscured by the placement of his glass, escaping his notice before. A light, flashing on the panel before him.
Someone had attempted to track his transport to the ship using TI technology, and he had no doubt who that someone was.
He smiled again and proudly laughed as he instead clipped the compass to his belt. She had been interested.
She wanted to find him, and he thought he might just give her a second chance to get what she’d been looking for.
In an instant, he knew exactly where he’d be going next.
Lt. Commander Michael Blakeney
Starfleet
And
Gemini Lassiter
Starfleet
And
Gemini Lassiter