The Clash of the Titans (Part One)

Posted on Mon Jul 20th, 2009 @ 2:11pm by Captain Elsie Halliwell

1,709 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Behind the Mask of Familiarity
Location: Commander Arkham's Office
Timeline: Current

ON:

Lane stood before the office of Commander Arkham and sighed silently to himself. It had been days since he had communicated with her thoroughly, but now with the death of an officer on his hands, and with another confined to the brig, Lane knew that he had to repair the floundering relationship of the command team before the darkest of the night was upon them.

It had seemed like weeks since he, a fresh-faced commanding officer, had brought aboard a seasoned, experienced and dangerous Lieutenant Commander aboard as his number one. He was called a fool by some: Arkham’s Intelligence past and demeanour did not allow her to accept orders easily, and her hidden loyalties were proving difficult to manage. With the arrival of Captain Harwood, the wine had turned to vinegar.

He pressed the chime on the outer-side of the door and waited.

Hearing her doorchime, Arkham sighed a little. This had been a longer venture than she'd hoped for -- exhaustion was beginning to set in, brought about by Catherine's leaving and the dealings she'd been forced to make. Removing her reading glasses and rubbing her eyes tiredly, Arkham rasped, "Come in."

Stepping through the parted doors, the Trill nodded to his Executive Officer and forced a slight smile.

“Rowena, I was wondering if we could have a chat about the situation and where to move forward with it. I understand that the Nagasaki’s efforts have reignited the peace-talks down on the surface and, once we have dealt with our own problems, it should only be a few days before we are able to break orbit and report back to Starbase 352 to refuel and break out.�

"Ah," Arkham said quietly, raising an eyebrow. "Sounds thrilling. I could use a couple of days off. But we both know that's not why you're here, is it?"

“Do we?� he asked, raising an eyebrow with faux-intrigue.

"You're here," Arkham said quietly a slow smirk crossing her ruined features, "to ascertain my loyalties, how intact my mental faculties remain, what my undeniably sneaky and very well hidden agenda may or may not consist of, and if we have any hopes of repairing our albeit strained relationship at all, aren't you?"

“For an Intelligence officer, Commander, you seem to make rather general assumptions.� The Trill stepped up to the desk she was reading at and pulled out the vacant chair, sitting down heavily on the other side to her. “But, yes, Rowena, you are right on all…� he recounted in his mind her points and then continued with a smile, “…four accounts.�

His face then fell and he looked upon her with a sad glisten in his eyes and continued. “With Turoc’s death and Carter’s… holiday, I need to make this relationship work, Commander. I need to rely on my First Officer. At the moment, I feel like I’m fighting a battle on two fronts and getting nowhere with either.�

"For an Intelligence Officer," Arkham began, her tone a lecturing one, "I make the necessary assumptions. Ockham's Razor, after all, Captain; barring the impossible, the simplest solution is often the correct one. A generality on which all generalities are founded, and a generality you have to throw out the window when dealing with an Intelligence Officer." --Arkham paused for a moment, and chuckled-- "Ironic, isn't it?"

“I have found that, when dealing with Intelligence Officers, you have to throw most of the rules out of the window, Commander. However, the concept of loyalty is not one of them.�

Arkham smirked a little. "Loyalty is a subjective term, Captain. I am eternally loyal to the Federation, and that is all I am tasked with."

"Though really," Arkham continued to muse, leaning back in her chair, "I don't believe in that either. Conspiracy is a ridiculous notion -- it inherently leads to complexity, and complexity inherently leads to error. A wretched guest, conspiracy. I can understand why you're so...eager to get it off of your ship...and simultaneously, you know I can't allow you to do so."

“Commander, you need to start falling in line with our interests. Not the ones that you allied yourself with before your career and commitments onboard the Archimedes. I expect it… and so do the crew. Captain Harwood coming aboard is really crux of every problem we have experienced since.�

"The Archimedes, Captain," Arkham said, raising an eyebrow, "is not the be-all end-all of this! My God, are you truly so young and narrow minded that you can't see past this insignificant little ship to the greater good?!"

“Rowena, I am not going to fight you on this,� the Trill replied, visibly becoming irate but attempting to quash it. “I take my orders from the Admiralty, and you, in turn, take them from me. It is that simple. I am not here to debate what is for the greater good of the Federation. I don’t have the necessary pips on my collar to qualify for that. And neither do you. Our orders get handed down, and we follow them. End of the matter. If yourself and Captain Harwood wish to satisfy some back-seated vendetta against old foes, then do so. But not on my ship. Am I understood? I will not have this ship and its crew used like a pawn in this game of yours any longer. Is that clear?�

Lane stood to leave the office and turned toward the door.

"Would it surprise you Coltan," Arkham said quietly and coldly. "To know that rank has been a farce for me since the Dominion War? Rank is nothing except pips I keep on my collar to keep Starfleet happy. True Intel has no rank. True intel is names and numbers hidden under colored uniforms that hide how very...dark we truly are. I follow my orders, and you know that. My old foes are numerous. My interest is in the long standing stability of the Federation. If lives and ships and loyalty has to be spent in order to maintain it, I will do so and not lose a wink of sleep over it."

Isn't that right, Dr. Ellard? Arkham thought, and pain ran along her ruined jaw as she did so. Rubbing it tenderly, she pushed the thought of that red-haired woman from her mind, knowing she was lying through her teeth. She'd give up everything to have Megan Ellard once more.

"Speaking of lives to be spent...how is Altair Kerr?"

“Who are you, Rowena?� he questioned, furrowing his brow attempting to contemplate how this situation was nose-diving to the ground. “You sound exactly like Harwood. What’s happened to you?�

"Coltan," Arkham said coldly. "They call me the Arkham Horror for many, many reasons. Least among them, is my willingness to analyze someone, find their weakness, and use it to destroy them. If you continue to interfere, Mr. Lane, as much as it will pain me to do so, I will make one call. That call will pull the treatments our specialists are providing. And he will slip back into his former state. Make no question of it, he will die."

“How dare you?� he exclaimed.

"I don't want to do that. But I need you to cooperate. Harwood has plans. She and I are the only reasons you are still in control. I was hoping you," Arkham said coldly. "What with young Rory, and Yvie, and Catherine aboard, with lives in the balance, would know enough not to hang yourself with the leash you've been allowed."

“They’re civilians, Rowena! And they’re my family. How dare you threaten their lives in your calculated, dark plans? And Catherine! Since when was the last time you considered Catherine in all of this?�

"Catherine...is no longer my concern. I value her, yes. But she's always known," Arkham trailed off, shaking her head. "She's always known what...I was capable of. I've used her as a pawn many times. And she's always used me against herself. Maybe we just couldn't live like that anymore."

Arkham fiddled with the comm on her desk. Her jaw throbbed, and she winced a little. "It's entirely your move, Mr. Lane. But I'd be cautious. You know not of the game you've stumbled upon."

“I will not have you interfere with this ship or its mission, Arkham!� Lane blasted. “Both are mine to control and both have been left to me to manage. I will not have you jeopardise any of it. If you serve some higher power then you will have to do so off my ship and not in the name of the Archimedes. I report to Command. My orders come from Command. And I will not be used as one of your pawns! Is that clear?�

Standing in the accessway of the door to the outside corridor, Lane stood shaking uncontrollably with rage. As the silence between to the two officers fell about them, the steady footsteps of someone advancing down the corridor could be heard. Lane quickly stepped back into the room allowing the doors to seal shut behind him, allowing both of them to be back in the room together… alone. There was little merit in allowing other crewmen aboard to witness this dispute. Taking a deep breath, Lane continued.

“I will not allow mutiny to thrive on my ship, Commander.�

"Coltan," Arkham said quietly, her tone much softer this time, "Listen to me. If I could explain what is going on, I would. Make no mistake of that. But this will all be much easier if you stay out of it. For your own sake."

After taking yet another breath, Lane matched her demeanour and tone and re-focused his eyes upon hers. “I can’t, Rowena,� he said. “I have too much responsibility for what goes on with this vessel and her crew. I’m going to the bridge. When you have decided which team you play for, come and find me.�

Arkham shook her head. "Well," she muttered under her breath. "That certainly could have gone better."

---

Captain Coltan Lane
Commanding Officer

AND

Commander Rowena Arkham
Executive Officer

 

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