Godmother's Gone Missing

Posted on Wed Apr 29th, 2020 @ 1:54pm by

Mission: MISSION 0 - History Speaks
Location: Vulcan-Zhukov's Embassy
Timeline: during QSD Test
Tags: Taylor
1795 words - 3.6 OF Standard Post Measure

The morning was going well for the most part, it had been a beautiful sunrise, she'd had a great breakfast, and Marisol Lopez had told her she felt sure she was closing in on Aubrey Tate's location and expected to make an arrest soon. Now for the part that was no doubt going to sting, Rebecca was on her way with the morning's poll numbers, "Got to be better than it was yesterday." She reassured herself as her aide entered.

"Good morning, Madame Ambassador." Stafford greeted her boss as she entered, handing her the PaDD with the downloaded numbers. They weren't good, that was saying the least of it, but they were substantially better than yesterday's numbers, "Most recent polling numbers, updated twenty minutes ago."

"Thank you, Rebecca." Zhukov smiled, scrolling down the list of candidates to find herself in thirteenth place, with only four point seven percent of decided support, "Well, I see Grogan is still in second place behind undecided."

"Right." Stafford nodded, "Should I call the Undecided campaign and start talking you up as a potential running mate?"

"Ha ha." Zhukov replied, slightly salty, "Good news is we're up more than a full point from yesterday."

"Yes, Undecided's cousin, I Dunno must've pulled out." Rebecca sighed, this was getting to the point where it hurt her soul, Ambassador Zhukov could make the Federation strong again, strong as it was before the battle with the Borg, but it seemed nobody wanted that. Meanwhile, the Ambassador continued to pour herself into a campaign with literally no legitimate hope of victory for an ungrateful populous.

"Oh, Rebecca, my dear Doubting Thomas." Zhukov laughed, "I keep having to remind you, this is a marathon, not a sprint."

"And you're going to need to catch a taxi if you want to win this race." Stafford stated, "Grogan's going to check out on us soon if you don't start making up some ground."

"And how would you suggest I do that, Rebecca?" Zhukov asked, not entirely sarcastically, she really needed a hint right now, as she poured herself a drink, "I'm all ears."

"Well, like it or not, I'll be the one who says it." Stafford shook her head, "We were polling at almost ten percent before Aubrey Tate's escape. If you want to make up some ground, tell Marisol Lopez to quit posing for the cameras and do her damn job. Tell her to make a fucking arrest like a real cop. Then you're right back in it."

"You really think that will help?" Zhukov asked, very serious this time, "I don't see where it hurtnthe campaign that badly."

"Really?" Stafford gasped, exasperated, there was no way the Ambassador was serious right now, "You fell from nine point three percent and fourth place to four point seven percent and thirteenth, Ambassador. You fell all the way to one point six percent the day after and only just now regained that much support. How do you not see where it hurt you? People still think Col. Tate and her friend aided her brother's escape, they think you harbored him here, in the embassy."

"That's ridiculous and not worth acknowledging." Zhukov sighed, she'd heard all this before and wasn't about to let it get to her, or make her change her approach to Kerri Tate, "Even Lopez, the queen of the sensation mongers herself, has dismissed this out of hand. JAG has also dismissed the idea that Col. Tate was somehow responsible for her brother's escape as unfounded. People aren't stupid, they know better."

"Do they?" Rebecca asked, sometimes it seemed as though the Ambassador was really losing touch with reality, "You lost nearly ninety percent of your support overnight because of one story by that dirtbag Craig Billoit."

"Craig Billoit is a journalistic herpes sore." Zhukov said bluntly, draining her glass, "He's not taken seriously outside of trailer parks and barrooms where bored people want a sensational story to entertain themselves." She poured herself another drink, offering her aide one, which the younger woman declined with a shake of her head, "Suit yourself. And, Rebecca, let's be honest here, nobody with common sense thinks Kerri Tate had anything to do with this. Hell, the authorities on Cortic think Aubrey Tate tried to kill her!"

"They think she was meeting him and it went wrong on her." Rebecca corrected, it seemed the Ambassador hadn't gone over the articles she had sent her, "And if you're hinging your hopes for winning this election on the common sense of voters, you should just pull out now. Common sense is a flower that doesn't grow in everybody's garden."

"Indeed it doesn't." Zhukov conceded, Rebecca had made an excellent point there. A buzzing from the front desk, from Susan Jones, would distract them from their morning argument, "Yes, Ms. Jones?"

"Madam Ambassador, I've got a young man here, he's a cadet at the Longstreet Military Academy, his name is Jorge Baez." Susan informed from her desk, "He says he's here looking for his godmother, Colonel Tate."

"Well, send him up, Susan." Zhukov replied happily, hoping that maybe the boy had heard from Kerri.

The door open and a young boy of about ten years old, his hair high and tight and he in a full class A cadet uniform with Staff Sergeant's stripes on the sleeves walked in and came to attention, "Madam Ambassador." He presented himself, they worked hard on stuff like that at Longstreet.

"At ease, Cadet." Anje the Elder smiled, "So, I understand you're looking for Col. Tate."

"Yes, Ma'am." He replied, "My name is Jorge Smart, I was born Jorge Baez, and Col. Tate is my godmother, she raised me for a while after my mother was killed in action while serving under then Major Tate's command on Damocles, Ma'am."

~Damocles? Yes, that sounded familiar, but the young man's name wasn't smart, it was Baerga, Baez, something of that nature.~ "And when was the last time you spoke to your Godmother, young man?" She asked, it had been months since she'd heard from Kerri, who was no doubt recovering slowly in the primitive medical conditions on Cortic."

"Ma'am, it was before last Academic year." He replied politely, still deferring to her vastly superior rank, "She told me she was stationed here now after briefly serving as XO of the Damocles."

"Yes, that's true." Zhukov remembered, "It was bloody strange seeing her in Fleet red."

"I can only imagine, Ma'am." He replied, he hadn't remembered ever seeing his godmother in her fleet uniform, the only picture he had of them together she was in her Marine Dress Blues on the day the Smarts adopted him. He went into his jacket pocket and withdrew the picture in question, "I do have proof, ma'am. You recognize then Maj. Tate, baby on board is me. I was approximately nine months old."

"Very nice." Zhukov smiled, it had been so long since she had seen Kerri looking that pretty, much less that happy, "And what brings you here? Not deserting your unit are you, Cadet?"

"No, Ma'am." He replied quickly, wanting that idea put to bed in a hurry, "Spring leave, ma'am."

"And you wanted to reconnect with your godmother." Zhukov nodded, "That's wonderful. Unfortunately, you're not in the right place, Cadet. Your godmother went off on a mission for me several months ago and was injured by some maniac with a knife."

"I know about her brother attacking her, Ma'am." Jorge replied, not to be smart or anything but he did read the papers, "I had thought you might have had her transferred back here to recover."

"I would love to, but sadly she's not well enough to travel yet." The Ambassador shook her head, "Your Godmother is still on Cortic VI, which, as you no doubt know, is a disaster area and not safe to travel to."

"I've heard they're fearing that the planet might go supernova like Praxis did, Ma'am." Jorge pressed, "Are there plans to evac the Colonel before that occurs?"

"Cadet, loosen up." Zhukov sighed, this kid had a stick in his ass almost the size of his godmother's, "And, yes, I have no intention of letting one of my best officers be blown to hell in a planetary catastrophe."

"I'm glad." Jorge smiled, his demeanor and language more loose and 'kid' like as requested, "I look forward to seeing her again, it's been too long."

"Well, I guess it's on me to arrange that." Zhukov replied with a happy grin, "I'm going to start calling for some of our mutual friends to get your godmother a ride back here to see you. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to see how much you've grown. Have you had lunch yet, Jorge?"

"No, ma'am." The boy answered, the fact was he was hungry but hadn't wanted to bring it up, since he didn't feel Ambassador Zhukov had any responsibility to see to his care.

"Well, why don't you go with Lt. Stafford and she'll help you find something in the kitchen." Zhukov offered, "Help yourself to anything you want, except for the cake in the freezer, that's the last slice of my wedding cake and I'm preserving it."

"Yes, ma'am." Jorge nodded, the very idea of old, frozen wedding cake making his teeth and stomach both hurt, "I'll go with Lt. Stafford then."

"Rebecca, take care of Kerri's godson, please?" Zhukov asked, though she could've simply made it an order, but she wasn't feeling a vulgar display of power, "See if we've still got any of those burgers left. If we do, be a dear and bring me one?"

"Yes, Madam Ambassador." Rebecca shook her head and giggled, the old lady was on fire this morning, hopefully soon her campaign could claim the same. Rebecca walked to Jorge's side and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Okay, come with me, cutie pie, let's get you fed or your godmother will filet me alive."

"Wouldn't want that to happen, Ma'am." Jorge smiled, the young woman working for the Ambassador was as sweet as she was pretty, that was saying a lot, too. He followed her to the kitchen, his mind on those special burgers that the Ambassador seemed to love.

When the kids were out of the room, Zhukov turned her attention back to the polling, the numbers hurt, a lot, there was no doubt about it, but she knew she just needed one lucky break and she was right back in it and kicking Grogan's political ass. Right now though, she needed to focus on getting Kerri home safely, in case her brother or whoever had attacked her decided to come finish the job, and she knew just the man for the task, "Time to call the Gray Wolf."