Thunder Rising
Posted on Sat Jul 29th, 2023 @ 1:20am by Commander Arianna Frost
Mission:
Season 1 Interlude II (E5.5)
Location: Earth, Southeastern Europe, City of Dubrovnik
Timeline: sometime following
It was a quiet night in the old town, the off-peak tourist season was in it's waning days, before the warm days and comfortable nights started getting replaced by grey skies and rainy days.
A man sat at one of the small tables on the terrace of an old, renovated in the old 17th century stonework style of eastern europe, family restaurant. He was relatively tall and of a toned, yet not overly muscular build, as evidence by the firm, but not overly bulky arms covered by a short sleeved, beige button down shirt.
His hair was black, just on the longer side of flop, but in a deliberately careless manner, as if he'd just come from the beach and had let his hair dry in the warm air. His features were chiseled, offset by cerulean blue eyes, which gave him a softer, more approachable look.
He wore dark shorts and flip flops on his feet, essentially looking like every other tourist the city had every summer season for centuries. He had a a small basket to his right, with slices of a baguette and an olive oil dip. Truth be told, eventhough he wasn't there for pleasure or leisure, he was enjoying the relaxed atmosphere and the moment of quiet.
The PADD to the left of him had a scrambler turned on, so as to ward off any potential ears, and his companion would provide watch against the other kind of eyes, due to her abilities.
No sooner than he'd looked down at his PADD and the time, he heard a soft clicking sound approaching behind him down the alley, from the Diocletian Palace direction. Soft clicks meant leisure shoes, rather than business shoes.
A feminine hand made its way onto his shoulder. "You're fitting right in, Irish." She said in a tone that spoke of greek origin and another albeit muddied one.
He stood up, turning to face the woman.
She had a mane of wavy, chocolate brown hair, with a few gray streaks peppered throughout, echoing the woman's age, though her face belied little in the way of age, due to the angular, narrow features. She had hazel eyes, which seemed almost black in certain light and she wore a light, silver summer dress of a cotton-like material, and dark brown wedges on her feet.
"Ah m'dear, as are you," the man exclaimed, moving in to embrace her. "I hope your trip was good?"
The woman returned the embrace, "we're clear..." she whispered to him, before continuing in a normal tone, "oh yeah. Hydra is absolutely lovely this time of year."
The man nodded to her and motioned for her to sit. "I hope ye don't mind tha' I ordered for us. If I recall, Cacio e peppe?"
The woman grinned enthusiastically, "and I hope you found some good local reds?"
"Aye, Plavac, as usual. I'm 'avin' the shrimp linguini. This lot makes 'em t' die for." He said as he took his seat as well, indicating with his hands that the scrambler was on.
"Fabulous." She set a small bag to hang over her handrest and leaned back. "So, Lex, you know, if you wanted dinner, we could have come to my place. Korra makes a mean foraiga and I know how much you love it."
"Aye, Xan. I just felt like ye needed t' get out a bit. Change the scenery an' all." Lex said as he leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled on his lap as he observed the woman.
Xan moved to speak, but was interrupted by the waiter and waitress bringing their meal and drinks. Her mind, it its limited capacity scanned the man and woman's emotions and thoughts. Utter disinterest with a dash of boredom. He seemed more interested in his colleague than the two tourists. Good.
The waitress poured them each a glass of the wine and the two soon departed.
"Slainte!" Lex raised his glass to her.
"Yiamas!" Xan smirked and clinked her glass against his.
Had he noticed that things were not alright in Castermer? She couldn't help but wonder.
"You were right, I did need a change of scenery." Xanthe finally said with a sigh as she took a bite of her spaghetti with cheese and pepper. "Is IA getting curious or is this personal?"
He finally leaned forward and took a bite of his own meal. "Bit' o' column A, bit o' column B." He said then took a sip of the red wine. "Mostly, just' wanted ter know why ye' still 'aven't released Frost back ter me? "Donnager, ye said, an' then there was the DS9 clusterfuck an' then I read she's Deputy Administrator on Theta?" He said in a casual chit-chatty tone.
To an outside observer, they were just a couple having dinner, perhaps a first, second or n-th date.
Xanthe nodded, "mhm."
Alexander looked over at her, blue eyes studying the tanned woman curiously. What was she playing at? Nothing Xanthe Rahal ever did was not calculated, a power move of some sort. His old mentor was a formidable hardass, and he was very fond of her. The greek/betazoid hybrid had taught him a lot when he came through the ranks of Starfleet Intelligence, but the Irishman had plied his trade in different battlefields than his mentor.
Where as she was innately suspicious, Alexander was more open-minded and he tended to let things play out and then adjust and react, rather than have his fingers in every single pot. It lead to over-taxation, he found, and to things slipping through the cracks.
That was it, wasn't it? Something had fallen through a crack in her vast array of pots. Not good, especially with a project of the gravity that Castermer was. Was it Frost? Or someone else?
"Xan, I've earned the courtesy of knowing why you're refusing to release one of my best agents. She brought you your target and the intel and helped save Tau and Nyel and the whole station." He said, in that same casual tone, looking back to his meal as he took another bite, then a sip.
Xanthe took a sip of her drink, reaching out with her senses yet again. Just one person was curious and paying attention to the conversation. The infinitely casual man across from her. Curiosity and concern, she felt from him, guarded feelings both. He kept his head in the game, like always, like she'd taught him, all those years ago. Head in the game, body in the moment. Which was why he could appear so casual, yet analyze intelligence with great attention at the same time.
"You'll need to talk to her yourself and..." Xanthe set her fork to the side of the plate, reached into her small bag and pulled out a PADD, "give her this. We have an actual who has seemingly gone off script. Frost alerted me to it recently and since it concerns me as much as the field actual, I have agreed to fully cooperate. I am not sure how she'll be able to contact you without tipping her hand so I decided to send you her way first."
Alexander Night took the PADD and tapped on it. It was code locked. A dark eyebrow raised at his hazel-eyed companion.
"Tell her 'Conestoga'. She will know how to open it. Intel I promised to deliver." Xanthe said, maintaining a smile, though her tone became heavy. "I only know the basic details I was shown. She will need to be there, and you will see why when she explains. As a party involved, it is better I know less, until this is over. If I remove her now, we will have two powderkegs getting ready to blow. We're still recovering from the latest incursions and we can't afford one, let alone both."
Alexander nodded and put the PADD in the pocket of his shorts. Any actual going off script was bad. Castermer had four. Three heads, Xanthe being one. Who the other two were was only known to the Head of the Security Council and the Director of Starfleet intelligence. Even himself as the new Head of Internal Affairs was in the dark about this one.
The fourth actual, the field actual, as she emphasized, was one Omri Updike. A clearcut cleanskin, a person behind another wall of classification he was not afforded. As of yet anyway.
The way Xanthe spoke though intimated to him that there was going to be an opening of an investigation by IA. Whether by Arianna Frost, Rahal or himself, he could not quite tell. What he could tell, though, was that things were serious.
Memory Theta was one of Starfleet and Federation's most secret and classified installations. Amongst the levels of Black Sites too.
"I didn't send her back though." Xanthe's voice dragged him out of his internal analysis of the situation.
He took another bite and another sip, "go on."
"Field actual did. His behavior has been off recently, even without Frost's interference. I am also needing to vet the current agents just to know whether I have a solo operator if I have a bigger breach. He was my mistake...and now I think I've completely lost control." Xanthe admitted, leaning back and taking a longer sip of her wine.
The skies above them clouded over, the stars blinking out ever so slowly, the light of the moon waning behind the cloud of shadow.
"Malaka, all that is missing is the ominous music..." Xanthe thought to herself as she noted the weather change.
Night could tell that she felt this mistake in her bones. He could sympathize more than she probably realized. Project Hellfire, a mission that was meant to bring more intelligence on the Borg which ended up in assimilation and death of two out of five team members. All because he didn't trust his gut, and the gut of his team, but chose to follow the intel and the instructions. A mistake that had haunted him eversince.
The air around them slowly grew colder.
"I understand they should be returning from Risa soon?" He asked then, skipping promises and platitudes. They were both adults and seasoned operatives. Both old enough to know neither could be always made or kept with certainty.
The breadrumbs she'd given him were enough to warrant the attention of the IA, certainly. He needed more though in order to bring his department in fully. To open an investigation and build a case.
Night would have to come to Frost.
In his mind, possible reasoning began to come to mind as to why he, as the Head of IA would need to visit Overwatch personally, so as not to seem suspicious. She was clearly dancing around the issue. She either feared surveillance or... No Xanthe didn't do fear.
No, she was keeping his canvas as clear as she could, so that he could get involved without preconception. She was going for the Book. For the Book to be thrown, all actions of facilitators needed to be above reproach so as not to risk technicalities.
Technicalities were the murder of the judicial side of cases.
Xanthe nodded, "should, yeah. I'm sure the interim CO would love to give the Head of IA the schedule."
A deep rumble sounded off in the distant sky, a dull flash of lightning followed.
Alexander finished his meal, "might just need to inspect their new security protocols. The ones mostly supplied and suggested by Castermer. External oversight, just to be sure both sides are playing ball."
Xanthe nodded as she too finished her meal.
Drip, drip, drip...slowly, cold droplets of rain signaled a change. A change of everything.
The pair got up, "best we don't meet till then, just for conflict of interest and appearances." He said as he reached over and embraced her again. "I'll see what I can do." He whispered in her hair and felt a squeeze of thank you in return.
"It was good to see you again, Lex. Thanks for taking me out to dinner." Xanthe chuckled at him, feeling a little relaxed. A feeling she hadn't had since that night on Evora when Arianna Frost intercepted her and Korra.
"And you. Next time we can afford, you two are coming to mine. I'll cook," he chuckled and gave her a wink at her incredulous look. "What, I can cook!" He said, jumping slightly as rain began to seep a bit more steadily and thunder rumbled closer.
Without further ado, the two each darted their separate ways, pretending to get out of the rain as each ducked out of the way of the frequented areas and beamed away.
