Hatchet-Burying for the Intel-ligent Man

Posted on Tue Jun 11th, 2019 @ 2:10am by Hera & Lieutenant Samuel Clemens XV & Petty Officer 2nd Class 'Big Ethel' Jablonski

Mission: Fractured Fairy Tales
Location: USS Hera, Hera's Quarters
Timeline: Before the Tribunal, after the arrival of Mrs. Dox.

The gregarious ginger gentleman once again arrived on Deck 8, headed for the VIP quarters. But this time, it wasn't for the purpose of spending time with the current Incarnation of Death (whom he happened to be "seeing", in the parlance of his native land).

He was there to speak with someone he'd actively been avoiding, having not quite figured out what to say to her, after the Meroset Affair. The goddess Hera, advanced non-human being, whose race had been the entirety of one of Earth's ancient deific pantheons in ancient times.

The Ambrosians, as Hera had indicated the most appropriate translation of her race's name to be in modern parlance, were pretty much the exact case study on how to screw up a younger race, pretty much permanently, having exposed humanity to unfathomably-powerful technologies, in the guise of godhood and forced worship, which drained life essence from the populations, in order to feed those same powers which they wielded. This, by all modern accounts, had resulted in something akin to a dependence upon hardened religious sects that took millennia for the Earth natives to finally shake off- and even in modern times, not entirely.

Speaking of shaking things off, Sam visibly shook his own head, as if to clear himself of any lingering animosity over what they'd discovered in the Meroset system- an early spacefaring, advanced culture, disrupted in the extreme, by force, many of them stranded in the outskirts of the system, as their world was invaded and converted to a war machine to wage Hera's rage-fueled crusade to wipe out humanoid life that may or may not have been seeded by her philandering husband, Zeus.

The suffering she visited upon that world was horrific to contemplate, with horrors including forced worship, erasure of the previous culture, breeding programs designed to produce monstrously-modified offspring to serve as mindless shock troops...

Sam had to physically stop, and concentrate, to keep his mind from descending into the rage he'd felt when he'd first read the probe scans from the system as they'd done proper intel work to determine the fate of the natives.

He arrived at the door in question, and nodded to the hulking female security guards present, announcing himself.

"Chief of Intel, here to consult with Hera," he said, simply, as though it wasn't anything special.

The large, wide, thick and generally somewhat massive Petty Officer Second Class Jablonski looked down at the mustachioed Missouri madman, brow furrowing in consideration.

“You’re not on the list, sir. I’ll have to call it in,” Jablonski explained as she reached for her comm badge. The Intel chief, possessed of a high situational awareness, noticed that the large Security officer was watching him carefully as she spoke and reached, alert for any sign of trouble from the bionic brinksman. Beside her, the considerably less impressive yet still muscular and alert security officer had stepped slightly to starboard, effectively surrounding the intelligence chief without making any threatening moves whatsoever.

Both of them were watching him like a hawk, even while watching the corridor. Clearly there was no casual ‘slipping by’ the guards of the gateway to the goddess.

“Petty Officer Jablonski to Commander Paris,” the Amazonian armsman asked, patiently awaiting the reply.

=^= Paris here. Problems, Petty Officer? =^= came the reply.

“Oh, no ma’am. Lieutenant Clemens is requesting access to VIP Quarters 11, Commander,” Jablonski reported.

There was a pause on the line at that, while on the other end of the comms Paris considered why Clemens, who knew procedure perfectly well, was trying to bypass her standing order without bringing it to her directly. Was he testing Security? The first officer of the USS Hera resolved to have a discussion with the Intelligence chief about it later, assuming she didn’t have it with him sooner.

=^= Call for another Security officer to spell you, and accompany the Lieutenant for his visitation, Petty Officer Jablonski. No walkabouts. =^=

“Understood, Ma’am,” came the reply, and even as she finished the call, one of the Wil’I’Ams sisters was approaching to replieve her. Without turning her back on Chief Clemens, Jablonski called out to the overhead. “Computer, unseal hatch on Deck 8 VIP Quarters 11.”

=^= What is your current weight? =^= the computer asked, and Jablonski blushed a bit.

“Awwww, dang. 146 kilos,” the farmgirl from Cestes IV responded with a mope, and the computer chirruped as the door slid open. Stepping in first, the hulking petty officer moved sideways, back to the wall as she stopped half in and half out of the door. A restraining hand that was bigger than his head was held out to prevent the crafty cryptographer from preceding her.

“Ma’am? You have a visitor,” Jablonski called out, waiting for a reply from within.

Clemens was impressed by the security response, but kept it to himself. He's been practicing avoidance in regard to Hera, and it was time for that to cease. You're the Chief of Intel aboard what amounts to the Flagship of Starfleet's Intel group. You haven't even interviewed her, yet- and that should have happened a long time ago, his hindbrain told him, and she's been no trouble since. The reports are good, and she seems to be trying to make up for the things she did. Give her the break she deserves... it continued, while they awaited a response.

Crap, the 'Hera Effect' is kinda scary up close, another part of his brain noted less than casually as Jablonski moved slightly. Suddenly she was a bit in his space, and he could not help but notice how much larger an animal she was standing next to him. The woman's forearms were bigger than his thighs, and her wrists were as large as his bicep. He hoped the PO wasn't having any problems with the changes.

Sam understood how hard it could be to wake up as 'not quite yourself', after all.

Hera was on her favorite fainting couch, a book in hand and dozing lightly when the door opened. Immediately startled awake, she looked around with bleary eyes and dropped her hardcover of the Iliad with a thud on the floor. "Ah... Yes, please come in. I just need to... Freshen up..."

Like his mama taught him, Sam waited respectfully in the anteroom, to allow the tenant of the suite the time she needed to 'get her face on', in the parlance used by his kin. Standing at parade rest, the eyes of the security officer roamed the room, insuring nothing that might endanger her charges escaped her attention.

It didn't take the matronly goddess long to wash up and make herself presentable. Soon she was ready to receive her guest and greeted him and the head of her honor guard in the entryway. "I am so sorry for your wait. Please, come in and make yourself comfortable. What brings you by... Ahm... What was your name?"

Sam made a motion as though he were tipping his hat, and nodded, replying politely, "Lieutenant Samuel Langhorne Clemens the Fifteenth, ma'am. I'm the Chief of Intelligence aboard the ship, here."

If he'd had a hat, it would have been off his head, and in his hands, as was customary.

"A pleasure to meet you. I am Hera." The matronly goddess simply curtsied as she introduced herself. "How may I help you today?"

Despite his baser urges regarding her past, Sam found himself reminded of a favorite aunt, or three, back home. He broke into an abashed smile, and replied honestly, if not completely.

"Well, Ma'am, I'm afraid that I've neglected some of my duties regarding your presence, here, and it just comes down to me procrastinatin'. Th'reasons why are somewhat complex, but it comes down to me forming an early opinion of you that I've yet to properly update, given your actions while aboard our ship.

He fidgeted just a touch as he spoke, but powered through with the crow-eating.

"I'm aware of your prowess as a military leader, and you deserve my honesty." He squared his bearing, and faced her with respect.

"I judged you very harshly, based upon incoming reports of the events before our arrival in the Meroset system. I never spoke with you post-battle, basing my analysis on mission reports, and I failed to look you in the eyes and give you the benefit of full measure, as an elder leader deserves, as a baseline acknowledgement of your historical significance. I let my initial, remote view of you set itself in concrete."

"That was wrong of me, and I'm here to apologize, and correct my slight."

Hera frowned a bit and nodded before motioning towards her dining room table. "Perhaps we should sit and talk it out then. I have no interest in rehashing my more insane days of bloodlust, but if you'd like, we will discuss it."

Sam followed the kind-faced woman to the table, debated pulling out her chair for her by sheer force of upbringing, but also realized that she was extending hospitality to him, and took a seat across from her, scooting up, and steepling his fingers in front of his, his elbows planted on the table, an earnest mannerism that seemed to come easily to him.

"This coming chicanery we're all about to face is part of the reason why I'm here, as well. Whatever change has come over you, it seems to be to the benefit of the galaxy at large. That makes you an important ally, and someone a gentleman intel agent ought to at least become cordial with," he opined, a slightly-cocked smile playing on his lips.

"In all honesty, you've shown several friends of mine nothing but kindness and friendship, so I owe it to you to attempt to extend the same to you. Thank you for all the help you've given us. I understand that you're something of a goddess of family, and this here ship is definitely become my family since I've been here."

"Having been forcefully shown the error of your ways over the course of your entire life is... Eye opening, to say the least." Hera chuckled softly. "To know that there is indeed a better way and to make use of it daily tends to inspire and instill one with the ideals, hopes, and goals of those that one is now a deific personality for. Not to mention the bond that Rita and I share. I think she has influenced me more than anyone. For her, I genuinely strive to be what she sees as a good person."

"On that note, It does nothing to stop my domain from slipping out across the ship. Certain inhibitors have been put in place, but I'm afraid as long as I stay here, pregnancy and family rates will always be unnaturally high."

At that comment, Petty Officer Jablonski diplomatically cleared her throat.

"Ah, and the effect I've had on those that have dedicated themselves to protecting me. That's more of a very localized thing, though." Hera looked a bit sheepish, realizing she was rambling a bit. She couldn't help what she was. "So is there anything else I can help you with? You are a part of my family now, after all."

Even her demeanor was charming. Pretty damned hard to hold even a small grudge, under the circumstances. Sam decided that business was the best way forward.

"Initially, I intended for this t'be an apology, and a short intel de-briefing, to supplement my own observations and interpretations of the various reports from Meroset. But, it's clear to me, now, that you're dedicated to the well-being of your namesake and all of us who serve on her." He looked contemplative. "I'd like your assessment of the coming Tribunal, from the viewpoint of someone who's seen duplicity on a far grander scale than most mortals, if you'd care to share. We've got options, of course, but another expert opinion would help us prepare for success while trying to minimize the wreckage that conflicts like this inevitably end up causing."

"I normally don't get involved in such things and no one has specifically briefed me on the specifics..." Hera began delicately, then sighed as she pulled the notepad and pen she kept on the table to her and began drawing out what she saw of the battle lines, though they would likely make little to no sense to anyone else. "From what 've been able to gather astrally, both sides are poised to crush the other. If this crew allows themselves to fall into the other side's trappings in any way, it's over. If the other side pulls back their curtain of deceit at all, they lose on the first front, but will still have a lion's head at the rear front."

Hera finished drawing her diagram of the coming battle - a bit of a prophecy in and of itself, containing the Hera, a lion, clouds full of speckles, lightning on both sides, and a laughing man with a goatee. "I'm not the greatest artist, but..." She pulled the page free and slid it over to Sam. "I hope this helps."

Sam watched curiously as the ancient, who was far more technically-advanced than most other species in the galaxy, used a form of communication that was old even by human standards. When she'd finished, he took it, and nodded. "I suspect it'll at least help us avoid some of the most nasty surprises that I'm certain that harridan has in store for us. So the primary takeaway from this information is, essentially, wheels within wheels- however sneaky we estimate the other side is, double it, then double it, again." He smiled widely, this time, a twinkle in his sapphire-blue eyes. He stood, and bowed.

"Madam Hera, you have my thanks, and the thanks of the crew of this ship, for all the help you've given us, both in this situation, and others. On behalf of my section, the Intel team welcomes you, and I, personally, am glad you're here."

As though tipping his hat, he touched his right temple, then extended the two fingers toward her in a salute that had, for millennia, showed respect, and took his leave. Behind him, Petty Officer Jablonski bowed her head silently to her patron goddess, then moved to follow the Lieutenant as he lead the way to the corridor.

Once again alone, Hera let slip her weariness and leaned against the table like the old woman she really was. She then sighed heavily. "I just hope they all come home safely."