Backlog || FAdm Red, Adm Hark || CinC & SecQCmd || Promotions above and beyond.

Posted on 241510.12 @ 6:03pm by Admiral Alexander Hark & Fleet Admiral Blyx Red

Mission: Reconciliation & Reconstruction [Fleet Plot]

Back in the confines of his office, the familiar surroundings a calming effect on the greying Admiral as he leant back in the chair, his eyes were closed as soft jazz filtered through the air and Xander's hand was gripping a steaming mug of tea. There was a lot to reflect on after his meeting with Blyx on Cold Station Theta, she'd opened up a whole new can of worms and it'd led them both across the galaxy, into danger on a foreign world and it'd led him into the arms of his daughter for the first time.

His daughter, the girl who he'd silently guided through life as a gift to her missing mother. He'd loved Susan deeply when she broke his heart and that pain had driven him, it had all been a deception to make him the man he is and it still confused him, but a tiny part of him understood why.

When the door of the office slid open, the music automatically paused and gave Xander a reason to sit up and open his eyes, the face of his young aide was approaching and she wore a wide smile as she handed him a padd, "The review committee has sent a recommendation for the appointment of a new Fleet Admiral, I'm sure you'd agree with it, sir."

Reading through the padd, the Admiral understood what the smile was about and nodded slightly, "Excellent, connect me to Cold Station Theta, I should do this myself." he replied as he handed it back to her.

"Of course, Admiral." the aide replied before rushing out to her desk to connect the call.

---

Roses.

The thorny blooms had long been the symbol of her side of the family, though some had argued that the Ivanova's crest of irises were just as much part of the Red heritage as the roses were part of the Ivanova's. The two blossoms stood as pillars of unspoken meaning, heritage dating back well before the 1700s in Europe and, later, the United States. Somehow Russian ancestors had traveled east with the trade routes, mingled with the Germans, fell in love with the incorrigible French which, by nature, bled into the English, Irish, and Welsh to create a viscous melting pot of people that sailed the ocean blue to establish colonies in the new world; taking legend, lore, and secrets with them... Of course. Much to Blyx's chagrin, her own daughter had permanently, well as permanently as one could do in the age of dermal regeneration, branded herself with a small homage to each. They'd been inked on the delicate skin, small and puerile, behind the high cartilage crests of her ears.

"Aine... Dear lord, Aine..." The woman had tutted when her daughter, having just been promoted to Commander, turned up for Christmas and showed her the tattoos with pride. The girl had simply smiled like the imp she could be and told her mother not to hate the change of the times. The conversation was tabled in favor of family cheer.

She sighed as she clipped and pruned away at one of her favored bushes, it's bright multi-colored blossoms standing out like flame against the sea of green foliage that had birthed them. They'd been prized when she'd seen the small plant being pedaled by a merchant out on the lawless promenade. It had been the first week that she'd taken command, and the decision had been made right there and then to create an arboretum teeming with life and beauty as a reminder that all things could be tamed and still prosper gloriously. The rose bush had been proof enough. Under the Admiral's careful hands, much like the station, it had regenerated from a wilting weed back into a sign of resplendence.

"I hate to bother you, Admiral."

The voice of her now favored yeoman broke the quiet of her gardening. She didn't need to look up to know he still had his damned dreadlocks, though they'd likely be 'tastefully' tucked up and off his collar. He too had transformed into a highly polished and respectable officer. "What is it, Mr. Ford?"

"Admiral Hark, priority communication... He said he had no time and to just hand you a PADD." He sheepishly responded, forking over the device as if it were allergic to the brass on the other end.

Blyx scowled deeply, worse than when she'd found evidence of parasites on her flowers. Unlike the aphids, being caught covered in dirt by the Commander in Chief wasn't as easily remedied. Her nose crinkled over the bridge as she tugged her dirtied gardening gloves off and took the PADD with a heavy sigh. "He owes me more than cognac this time." She muttered, "Thank you, Mr. Ford. I'll take this in private." He was already beating a steady tattoo back across the loam, happy to be rid of the PADD and his boss' ire.

"Xander Hark, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Blyx finally greeted, connecting the call with a grimy thumb print. The man's face spoke of amusement and good humor. Pain and suffering weren't things she could see in his expressive and beautiful eyes, and that alone seemed to set the snappish little woman at bay. Her own face, unbeknownst to her, was smudged across the nose and cheek with potting soil with thanks to an itch she'd scratched without thinking about the dirty consequences. Then again, she hadn't thought there'd be a call from anyone, especially not Xander.

"If I didn't know any better Admiral, I'd be one to think that you were somehow on Earth tending your gardens, I trust the arboretum is thriving as well as Cold Station itself under your practiced thumb?" Xander replied with a slight smile and a nod as the dirtied face appeared on his monitor, the smudges of soil serving to highlight the contours of her face.

The woman's eyes narrowed and her head tilted in momentary confusion at just how he could have known she was garde- Her thoughts paused mid-trail as the dawning realization that the tightening feeling over portions of her face weren't just her imagination, but rather drying dirt and an uncharacteristic pink hint of a blush rose to the surface of her skin to compliment the strange organic additions. "Thriving as can be expected." Blyx replied with a soft cough of embarrassment, "I didn't have time to show you before we departed to Atlantis and when we returned the damn thing had turned into a bit of a jungle, but I highly doubt you took the time to call me just to ask me my secret for growing roses. Lay it on me."

"As you say Blyx, this isn't just a social call, I've actually been passed something concerning you by one of the committees that they have reviewing the upper echelons of Starfleet," the greying Admiral replied, a mug of tea appearing before him and the hastily retreating form of his aide heading back out of the door, "Although I have to admit that I am minded to agree with this one, since they only seem to pass positive recommendations."

"You have my attention, Xander, but so help me God if you're about to slap me with another ten years of service..." She drawled, tipping her nose down and to the left in such a manner that it gave her poise to eye the man in a fashion that spoke both of power and piqued curiosity. It was an expression and pose she'd taken many times with young and old alike and usually came paired with folded arms. Holding the PADD negated her ability to complete the stern, though quiet, demand for more information and explanation. In retrospect she'd likely wonder just how she'd obtained such demeanor; parenthood? Marriage? Command? Admiralty? Not that it mattered where, it was the why such a facade had needed to be created that seemed so much more interesting in the long run. Blyx had, after all, spent her entire adult life in the service of Starfleet, racing across the stars to protect the Federation's interests from unsavory foe that would try and pinch it away for their own selfish agendas and demands without hesitation.

"It would seem that your long service and subsequent reactivation by myself has not gone unnoticed and your dedication to duty should be rewarded, I've taken their suggestion and I find that I agree with it wholeheartedly, which means that you'll find a package arriving within the next couple of days." Xander responded with his hand pressed to the console below the monitor, he began to transfer the necessary paperwork, "By order of Starfleet Command and with the full authority of the United Federation of Planets, I hereby instruct that Admiral Blyx Red is to be advanced to the rank of Fleet Admiral with all the rights and responsibilities of such station," he read off from the beginning of the document, "If you would be so kind as to identify yourself on the document with your thumb print and voice confirmation, the entry shall be so recorded."

Surprise and mild confusion widened the little Admiral's sky-stained eyes and her mouth tried its damnedest to form words, but fell silent as they continuously slipped from her tongue and eluded utterance. The first audible noise that she managed to properly conduct was the sound of a rushed and breathy rush of air that may or may not have been a surprised single laugh as her head shook and she blinked several times in quick succession as if to wake herself from whatever bizarre daydream she was having. "Xander..." His name finally fell from her lips, "I..." She was about to say 'I can't.' for the first time in her career. Not 'I won't', but 'I can't', and paused as her wits quickly gripped at the tips of her crow-hued mane, tugging sharply as if to say 'Really? You already have.'. Finally she simply nodded in wordless acceptance as she placed her dirt stained thumb against the screen, "Admiral Blyx Omegi Red." She heard herself saying, following by the serial number Starfleet had issued her way back in her Academy days; a time so far gone and long since buried by experiences, trials, and tribulations some would find to be a woven tale of fallacy... Sea stories of the interstellar kind, should she have felt the need to catalog and share them.

When her finger fell away from the screen corner, and she of course had blown away any remnant grains of dirt, Blyx gazed back through the PADD's screen at the other aging Admiral. He was a proud man, a good man, and where once she'd have loved to hate him and heckle him endlessly for dragging her away from the comforts of Africa, she now only felt tenderness and quiet awe. "Thank you." She said with a gracious dip of her head, "For everything, Xander."

"You've earnt it Blyx," Xander replied with a matching bow of his head as he transferred the information to another padd and handed it to his waiting aide to be sent down to Starfleet Operations, this was one of the few parts of the jobs that he genuinely enjoyed, everyone deserves to be rewarded for their service and none had served Starfleet as stalwartly as the woman before him. "I'll have to come back to Cold Station some time so we can celebrate with a drink."

"You will." The dirt-smudged woman replied with an uncharacteristically emphatic nod, "This time it'll be my treat seeing as there's talk of some of the most exotic liquors being brought through this place by the merchants. Most of it can't be readily identified, but the Ferengi seem keen to sell it by the barrel fulls. I've been having samples taken and studied, so far no hits on origin..." She sighed with a light chuckle, "but it's safe all the same. I think you'll enjoy it, Xander, you need a rest after Atlantis and everything appears to be sailing along smoothly with the Ascendancy."

"There's no rest for the wicked Blyx, you should know this by now," Xander replied with a light chuckle and a wink as he looked over to the stack of padds which seemed to grow every time he took his eyes away from them. His aide was fast and as silent as a mouse, she excelled in making sure paperwork was put in front of him, "But a break would be nice, I've not had much time to process everything that has happened."

"Then it's decided. I'll clear off half my desk and you'll just have to get used to it for awhile." The dirt smudged woman beamed, all too familiar with the mountains of 'paperwork' that came with any sort of position of Star Fleet 'opulence'. Her own was ever expanding as new reports of new species, trade items, planets, stars, galaxies, and more came to rest on the rich mahogany surface of her desk. What she needed was a yeoman, and fast. "And, if you hurry, you may beat your daughter back into port. So far everything seems to indicate that the Stenellis are trying to kill them with too much sun and too much food." She chuckled.

"After what happened last time out, hopefully that's all they're trying to kill her with," Xander replied with a slight grimace as he thought back to the events that had led him across the galaxy, "No doubt I have one of your reports on my desk about the situation."

"With a little luck." Blyx nodded, "Get a move on it, Xander. You can read reports on the way to the station. I, however, have the remainder of a mess to tend to and dirt, apparently, to get off my face." The Admiral nearly blanched upon finally realizing the situation that had presented itself. The drying soil across her skin had lead to itching, itching had lead to a gentle wipe, and the gentle wipe had revealed the dark earth that had been, and still was, blatantly smudged across her skin.

"I think you'd be lost if you didn't have a patch of dirt to keep you on your toes," Xander replied with a slight smile and a matching nod, "Once I've got some time, I'll see about making my way out there again,"

"Hark out." Was Xander's reply as his aide reappeared with another smaller stack of padds and deposited them on his desk.

(End Log.)

Fleet Admiral Blyx Red
Cheydinhall Sector Quad Commander
Starfleet

&

Admiral Alexander 'Xander' Hark
Commander in Chief
Starfleet