[JP] R. Adml. Reynolds & Lt. JG Marshall - All In (Part I)
Jo Marshall
((Rear Admiral’s Ready Room, Deck One, USS Gorkon))
::It was all Bear could do not to run as he moved through the Bridge at a clip. Heart heaving with the worst case scenario beginning to play out in full swing, with a twisted conductor leading the orchestra. Someone left; a Mazerite, with a face as though the Admiral had just handed him his own liver. Bear slipped inside the Ready Room straight after him, the door closing behind. Reynolds barely looked at him, studying something on her monitor instead, her remark on the matter dry and languid.::
Reynolds: It's traditional to use the chime, Lieutenant.
::The man didn’t respond, but he did throw the PADD in his hands down onto her desk in front of her. It landed with a slap of the casing on the wood. His jaw set like iron, eyes flashing their normal blue with more than a touch of ire. As intended, it drew her attention straight toward him.::
O. Marshall: You know damn well what that is.
::She took a slow, deep breath and leaned back in her chair, lacing her fingers together in her lap. The PADD was barely acknowledged, rather her cool, impassive gaze remained fixed on the man who'd carried it.::
Reynolds: Do I?
::The physical response to her sitting back was him leaning forward, both hands on the edge of her desk, as broad as his shoulders would go, a snarl carved into his face. She met his eyes without flinching, a glimmer of steel behind the hazel hue.::
O. Marshall: I get a demand for her and suddenly she’s in the brig?
::Her tone was mild when she answered, the most casual of inquiries. She could have been asking for the latest comm traffic reports, who was staffing the bridge next shift, or any other of the tedious minutiae that contributed toward the ship's routine.::
Reynolds: A demand from whom, Lieutenant?
::The question was a simple one, but hit Bear in the chest with immediacy. A line overstepped, the information he shouldn’t have said, the theories he’d been brewing in his head of how much the Admiral actually knew.::
O. Marshall: You know who it is. Is saying it out loud going to make this any different?
Reynolds: Yes.
O. Marshall: Why?
Reynolds: Because it's well past time you put your cards on the table. ::She inclined her head towards him, eyebrows quirking up ever so slightly.:: But if you want to keep digging yourself deeper, be my guest.
::His jaw set with the unpleasantness of it, like the taste of the words was a bitter and acidic reminder brought to form. It took him a second, working through the internal processes that had hidden that phrase well away, deep down in that grave he had continuously dug for years.::
O. Marshall: The Syndicate.
::She let the name hang in the air for a few moments, a sourness than did nothing to alleviate the press of tension in the room. Without further comment, she leaned forward and picked up the PADD he'd so unceremoniously slammed onto her desk a short while ago. Narrow fingers darted over its screen, and she read the contents even as she asked questions.::
Reynolds: And they wanted Sienelis?
O. Marshall: Alive. They make that point pretty clear.
::Her eyes flicked up at that, though her head didn't move, and she looked at him for a long moment. Evaluating. Appraising. Judging?::
Reynolds: What would you have done if they requested the alternative, I wonder. ::Sparing him the opportunity to answer, she continued on, eyes dropping back to the PADD.:: How exactly were you planning to achieve this?
::Bear crossed his arms, setting his stance. The impenetrable fortress. The plans he’d made seemed like he’d have been better spending the time painting vanity stripes on the nacelles for all the good it was going to do him now.::
O. Marshall: There’s a shuttle. Knock her out, get her in it, and go. It’s got a scrubbed warp signature; we’d be gone and into hiding before the Gorkon could catch up.
Reynolds: There's always a certain elegance in simplicity. ::It was almost approval. Almost.:: Probably would have worked, if you could get past that first hurdle.
::She fell silent then, her finger tapping against the bevel of the PADD. Her eyes narrowed, and she discarded it on her desk, turning back to her monitor. With a lock of concentration etched onto her freckled face, she began tapping away at its control panel, fingers swift and sure as she entered a series of commands.::
TBC
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Lieutenant JG Orson Marshall
Logistics and Communications Officer
USS Gorkon
G239304JM0
&
Commanding Officer
USS Gorkon
T238401QR0