Hide and Oversight
Posted on Tue Jan 31st, 2023 @ 8:44am by Rear Admiral Yoshi Minawara & Isabella Cerin
Mission:
R&R: The Reprieve
Location: TFCO72 Office
Timeline: MD01
2557 words - 5.1 OF Standard Post Measure
There were things in the grand scheme of matters that were allowed to wait. The stack of promotions he had published from the Vesta while just her commanding officer, right before the official push of him to Task Force Commanding Officer were one such thing. He could hear the panic and annoyance in the voices of the various levels that he was effectively approving his own requests, but after a quick talk with some of the other Task Force Commanders, it was practically par for the course. The other was his meeting with Ewan, which he'd carefully planned and could see the bottle of port he'd ordered in for the occasion sitting on the shelf of his liquor cabinet, waiting for him. The unfortunate reality was, that diplomatic affairs, especially with a newly operational starbase, were one of the things that can't. Rear Admiral Minawara adjusted his collar, carefully checking it was sitting right.
New pips fit weird. It was hard to explain to most who never wore the uniform, but the larger it went, the weirder it was the way they fit. Carefully he depressed the button on his desk, hidden in the sleek surface, as he waited for it to push through. The comms chirped, and the computer awaited the destination of the message. "Miss Isabella Cerin to the Task Force Commanders Office please." His finger came off and he held his breath for a moment. It was only then that his eyes glanced to the conference table. It had been meticulously set by the staff with extra PaDDs, a collection of water glasses and water, and even a collection of styluses for those members of the Oversight Division that would be arriving in the immediate future. An odd task force, made up of civilian members considered of "knowledgable report" and Starfleet members who were nearing retirement, who would be tasked to oppose everything the civilians demanded.
Well, not quite, but close enough.
When Izzy stepped into the room a few minutes later, in a meticulously smoothed suit with lapel pin and Pacifica pearls, she turned her eye to the same spread Yoshi had, and resisted the urge to scan the water: Just because the water on the colony had been drugged didn't mean this water was, especially when it had been laid out by Federation personnel in Federation territory. "Admiral." She nodded to Yoshi with a smile, possibly the only smile she'd be giving over the next few hours that was genuine and not simply 'curated'.
"Come now Izzy," Yoshi goaded his smile a little wider than hers, "there aren't the collection of boring bureaucrats yet, no need for the extreme formalities," he added, standing from his desk and stepping forward. "And I took a bit of inspiration from you," he mentioned, opening one of the concealed cabinets in the walls to reveal a coffee bar, made up of a rather nice glass coffee pot set up, as well as an old style espresso machine. The pot was giving the last huffs of steam as it finished brewing down, Yoshi pulling a pair of coffee cups. "I don't think I've ever asked, how do you take your coffee?"
"Usually, with a ton of Betazoid chocolate shavings melted into it." This statement was paired with a shameless grin on Izzy's face acknowledging both the hedonism in this approach and a blatant lack of shame in it. "Barring that, either with a touch of caramel creamer if it's coffee coffee, or if it's raktajino, straight up because Klingons don't tend to trust people who add stuff to it."
Punching the commands into the mini replicator, the creamer appeared in front of him, as he carefully poured from the carafe into the two cups. Gently placing the cups on a small tray he carried it over to the boardroom table. "You excited to have every inch of our careers and personal lives scrutinized by people who have never once themselves stepped out from behind a desk?"
"I take it you've also prepared your defense in advance for various items." Izzy sighed and rolled her eyes, now that she was confident the space was, for the moment, devoid of said types. "The question will be if half the things they ask were already included in all the reports that they didn't bother to read..."
"Oh come now," Yoshi said, pouring himself a black cup and taking a seat at the head of the table. "You have been doing this long enough to know it will be more than half. The other half will be them trying to demonize the stuff they did read and we have been cleared of." Placing the cup down, he puffed his chest up, and in a mocking tone said "I would like to know what you, Ms Cerin did, to prevent the forward time skip. Did you take everything in the power of the Diplomatic Agencies of the Federation to avoid this?"
"Considering that the power of the Federation Diplomatic Corps to prevent or influence such an incident or its particulars is exactly zero; I most assuredly did everything in my power, yes." This 'twice nothing is in fact still nothing' answer was given in a perfected tone that was somehow both emphatic yet bland, with an expression on Izzy's face to match. Different than had it been given in actuality, though, was the middle finger raised on Izzy's right hand at her side.
The chime to the door rang, and Yoshi looked to it as a pair of Petty Officers scurried in holding the last of the arrangements, setting them down carefully on the table, when one stopped to lean over and whisper in Yoshi's ear. He nodded, and waved a hand dismissively, before standing up and walking over to hide the coffee station. "Our guests are here, shall we?"
Oversight Committee Representative Galen Whitlock was a prime example of a career man in politics. He'd graduated from a prestigious Earth University (Oxford, he'd tell anyone who listened, even though he himself was from Luna), and had worked as a lawyer just long enough to get a political appointment. From there he'd slowly climbed his way through the back offices of various political leaders on Earth until he'd ended up in the Federation council in non-elected duties. From there it had been as simple as getting tied up in lobbying groups, and rubbing the correct elbows, to finally land on an appointment to the Federation Oversight Committee. A representative, no less, meaning he got to report back to the people that pressured the Federation Council on what decisions to actually make. His fair skin contrasted against his dark hair and emerald green eyes. To an average civilian, he was disarming, charming even. To anyone who worked in the political spaces, he was a snake, and not to be trusted. Some questioned if there was a bit of Ferengi in him, with how quickly he'd sell someone out to grow his own career.
"Admiral," he said, his tone calm, cool, and even a little pleasant. "Surely you understand the questions we have to ask. So again, during the hosting of the Trans-Stellar Relay, you were responsible for ensuring the safety of the guests aboard. Yet the Malon freighter-"
"Was a rogue element that was in the right place at the right time. We did everything we could to save the crew of that ship, in lines with Standard Federation Protocol," Yoshi responded coolly. "All things considered, I would say the affair was a diplomatic success."
"And yet said 'success' resulted in several protests lodged by various representatives who claimed they were forced into isolation and prevented from contacting their governments or their ships during the incident." Oversight Committee Representative Gretchen Woolsworth, in contrast to Whitlock, carried herself not with a career politico's oily charm, but the more staid variety of the career Starfleet officer she had been before her retirement and subsequent appointment to the Board. That career, however, had been in some ways spent in a very similar trajectory to Whitlock's; almost wholly planetside assignments, most at headquarters, handling contrast administration, logistics, and a variety of administrative niceties; carefully and methodically working her way up the ranks while making exactly the right sort of contacts to have led her now to her current role, salt-and-pepper hair in a just-so updo and hazel eyes fixed on Yoshi and Izzy.
"Representatives were ushered to safety in an emergency shelter area to shield them from danger during the incident; and no one was prevented from contacting their ships; communications were also disrupted for a time. We worked immediately after resolution of the incident to provide both commlinks and private spaces to all who wished to contact their vessels, and to return anyone who wished to depart the Vesta immediately." Izzy said with a forced bland calm.
"Very well." Woolsworth frowned slightly, checking notes on her PADD. "The fact remains also that the Federation's ability to benefit from any of such successes as you claim was negatively impacted by the fact that reports were unavailable and any efforts to maintain such connections were more difficult in light of missing information due to the Vesta's absence for three years. For that matter, I find it highly disturbing that such an incident of sabotage was able to occur in the first place; given the breeches of security it entailed." Woolsworth shifted her gaze from Izzy to Yoshi.
That one hurt. It was a sore memory and the pain stayed behind the carefully constructed mask of calm engineering work. "Specialist 0101 was examined both by the Department of Temporal Investigations, as well as Starfleet Medical. His pre-boarding medical showed no signs, as did every other medical exam after that. The plant was older than his time aboard and carefully orchestrated. While unfortunate, it was only the quick actions of the crew of the Vesta that delayed destruction. I would also remind you, the information lead to the eventual connection to the operator in question."
"An operator that attempted to gain access to the Vesta Computers by kidnapping you, correct?" Whitlock added. "Your combined shared trauma experience, and one of the questionable notes of this inquiry. Admiral, you plan to put the woman who was tortured in the room with you in charge of your diplomatic arm, is that such a great idea?"
Izzy gave Whitlock a perfectly-curated blandly blank look, and an equally perfectly neutral-yet-pointed tone in her words that served a dual purpose: Give nothing to further the cause, but also answer the question of sorts with a reminder that she had a chain of command of her own that had carried the water on that particular decision, though with the agreement of the fleet, and far more people's sign off than just the pair of them being drilled at this table. "If you have concerns with that decision; you are welcome to take it up with my superiors at Galactic Affairs."
"We have," Whitlock said, his tone not the usual friendly, pleasant tone, it also underlaid the matter at hand. Someone at Galactic Affairs had kindly instructed the man where he could file the report. "Likewise have we noted it with Starfleet Command, and I have been assured it is being taken under serious consideration," he said, stiffening and making the note sound as though it were a win. He looked to Yoshi, who himself looked mildly amused at the comment. This caused Whitlock's smile to shrink a few, and he narrowed his eyes.
'Serious consideration' might rattle some; but Izzy, face still perfectly blank, got the feeling that in this instance it was being used in it's other incarnation, much like 'talks were productive': As word-salad-filler that meant nothing was accomplished, really, but no one wanted to admit it.
"Oh please, carry on," Yoshi said, producing a PaDD. "I am curious to see if you read the report from Starfleet on your remarks. I have," he noted, holding it up dramatically to read. "Your report has been read, and filed with the Office of Public Affairs. As the primary office was unable to accommodate your request at this time, it has been submitted to Major General MacTaryn, to address with the Falkirk offices. Tell me, Ms. Woolsworth, did you ever make it by Camp Falkirk? In the summer it can get up to negative six, warm enough the Marines I am told make igloos." The meeting had been going on for the last four hours, and Yoshi had exhausted his own fit of compassion for the Oversight Commitee. Over the course of four hours, both careers had been pulled apart, examined, and intentionally misrepresented. "I could sit here all day and debunk your nonsense, but frankly I have a Task Force that needs seeing to. Is there anything important you wish, or shall I dismiss you?" It was unlike the Admiral, he was not the kind of man who enjoyed drawing attention to the chain of command, or the military adjacent nature of Starfleet. But he wanted to see his wife, to enjoy a nice drink, and maybe make Izzy dinner for putting up with the nonsense as it had extended. While the Federations flag hung in the office, it was the two Task Force 72 banners, adorned with the markings of Starfleet and Obsidian Fleet in particular that dominated the room. His words were not subtle, nor had he meant them to be. Short of the Brass truly pitching a fit, it was his office, his station, and his Task Force. He got to make the decisions, and it also meant they were here on a show of good will from him. Whitlock looked to his partner, a vein buldging as he did, before he calmed himself.
"I am sure there will be more questions, to be addressed soon. We'll return to the Gallantry and wait there until we need more. Unless you have more, Gretchen?" There was a hint of desperation in his tone, that denoted that he desperately wanted to grill them more, to push back.
"Not at this time; we will review our notes and be in contact as to the next session." Woolsworth stared down Yoshi for a moment, just long enough to make it clear she did not consider this a ceding of ground on her part; then Izzy, who gave her the same sort of chillingly blank-yet-intense conference-table-combat stare she was receiving, until both women finally broke the eyelock at the sound of PADDs being shifted.
Standing himself, Yoshi moved to return to his desk, listening as the door to the room hissed open when he paused and went "Oh! One last thing. The Gallentry was needed for a resupply of Paenope VI. As a result your affairs have been moved to quarters on the station. As non-essential civilian facilities aren't active I do apologize, but Captain Penner asks you don't wander the halls. You understand, it's for safety." He carried on his way towards the seat at the head of the room, not bothering to watch the extended look of annoyance on eithers face. It was about the small wins.
