242012.11 || "The Tale of the Beginning of the End of the Middle, Vol 1"
=.\= Transporter Room =.\=
“Ambassador,” the Ferengi greeted with a snaggle-toothed grin.
“Ambassador,” the Admiral-who-was-also-an-Ambassador replied with a brief nod. “Doctor,” she nodded, acknowledging the Tellarite.
“Admiral,” Fytherix replied.
“I notice you're not smoking,” the Admiral-bassador stated plainly as Fytherix took her hand to escort her down the steps from the transporter pad.
“My medication is just as easily absorbed introvenously as it it is the way I prefer when you're notg aboard, Admiral.” the Tellarite deadpanned.
“Yes,” the Admiral replied coolly. “Something to keep in mind, Doctor.”
From her robes she withdrew a PADD, which Zev accepted vigorously and began skimming through. Fytherix and the Admiral locked eyes, and held them for a long moment...
When questioned later, the marines assigned as honor guard to the meeting of Federation diplomats would say that in hindsight: yes, it's possible the suspects all knew each other, and allegedly had a mutual history between them. Considering what happened: there was no way anyone could have known. It wasn't something that could have been expected. Hell, it wasn't something that could have been imagined. The fact that they were able to answer any questions at all was a miracle in and of itself. They all should have been dead. This shouldn't have been written. You shouldn't be reading it—unless you read it before.
But what happened at that moment? Right there, right then, right now? Who's to say? It couldn't have been predicted.
For years the question would be whether or not it started there in the first place, or somewhere long ago. Perhaps the choice that instigated it all was made afterward! Some suspected the future, but that theory has always proven inconclusive due to the effect of historical integrity versus the micro-influences of the Temporal Investigations Department; the Starfleet Marine Temporal Defense Command had no qualms about contaminating the epicenter of such a catastrophic chain of evens. Because a Starfleet Medical Officer and Federation Ambassador were also … involved (allegedly), their government(s) were meddling as well. The bureaucracy of those four institutions, compounded with those of the Ferengi Intergalactic Consortium, and various other species impacted by the events of those few moments—it's impossible to truly know who of the six known to be at the scene is to blame, or who isn't.
But the question remains: how did the six of them all end up there, on a ship that wasn't supposed to exist in that specific place in space-time?
Following the aforementioned events: former-Captain Katana, the disgraced and widowed harlot of the *Independant Temporal Battleship Sanctuary* would ask herself these questions for years to come—decades, really—until the day she died. She wasn't in the shuttle bay when it all began, or when it ended, ever there at all, had she not been there all the time.
... but Razor was.
“Admiral, I have been authorized by Colonel MayTa to welcome you to the USS Sanctuary, and have prepared quarters for yourself, and staff,” Zev said with a loose formality. “I've taken the liberty of arranging transporter access for your convenience—I know how difficult it can be for attache's to find their way around a new ship every week.”
“Thank you, Ambassador. If I could be shown to my quarters I would appreciate a brief respite.” Nodding to her staff, the Admiral-bassador began walking toward the shuttlebay doors before she paused. “Doctor, I understand that you are assigned to this ship. I am certain that you will brief the ship's staff on the traditions my culture requries for the welcoming banquet.”
“The Colonel and XO plan to get married. It's their customs you need to worry about,” Fyth stated.
“Then I shall officiate,” the Admiral-bassador stated. “I am the highest-ranking officer of the Federation Diplomatic Corps, and your Colonel Mayonaise can't conduct his own wedding. Tell him that I find it an honor, and I accept.”
Zev inhaled sharply, shocked. Of all the things this woman could have said, he wasn't prepared for this.“I'm certain that the honor of your presence will be welcome in and of itself. I will let them know that you've offered to--
Apparently he was quite convincing, because the Admiral replied: “I look forward to receiving my formal invitation. Inform the bride-to-be that I prefer my evening tea at 2000 hours, to be taken in my quarters.” As she moved toward the door she stopped as it opened. “Ambassador.” she stated, as if addressing a poorly trained dog. “I'm certain that as a member of the Federation Diplomatic Corps you prepared an office for a visiting ambassador to conduct their responsibilities as a representative of the intergalactic organization we both serve.”
Both Zev and Fytherix opened their mouths, but each had different answers... Neither one of them was: “Yes, ma'am.”
“Then I thank both of you for rectifying this opportunity to provide the amenities representative of the Federation is due...” She began to walk out of the bay again, doors hanging open, waiting for her ego to pass through. “That includes dress uniforms and formal announcements when myself, flag officers, and diplomats enter a room.”
=.\ Doctor Fytherix
Chief Medical Officer, USS Sanctuary
=.\= Ambassador Zev
Ambassador/Counselor (ret.), USS Sanctuary
=.\= The Admiral/Ambassador
Entitled Bitch, [affiliation TBD]