Falco_Tauvits
Junior Member
BlueMan
Posts: 95
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ON:
Tauvits sank down onto his chair behind the desk in his quarters on Xavier, subtly locking the door behind him to prevent any intrusions. Although he had faith in the people he would communicate with to remain subtly and undetectable, he was still aware of the fact that a simple eavesdropping of the non-technical kind could throw a spanner into the works. Discretion was the name of the game.
So he keyed the screen to life, and was rewarded with the Federation symbol changing to show the slightly off-centre figure of a man in neat civilian clothing which put Tauvits' dusty jacket to shame, shifting about before the screen to settle in front. "Ah, Blue. Good to see you. Nice to know you return my calls."
"Well, you know how it is, Chris. I just can't control the excitement I feel at the idea of hearing from you," Falco deadpanned, raising an eyebrow across the communication at his old friend.
Captain Chris Sanders smirked faintly, reaching forward for a moment. The image shifted, then was oriented upwards slightly as he adjusted the height for his lofty frame on his end. "How're you doing with the tournament, then, Falco?"
Tauvits grimaced, gingerly touching the bruise on his forehead from his defeat. "Not well. Already been taken down in the second round. A fall from third place to... oh, being lost in the masses. Quite depressing."
Sanders waved a hand dismissively, but not unsympathetically. "You've seen more than most of these buggers in real combat. I bet few of them have taken on three Klingon pirates single-handedly."
"Single-handedly?" Tauvits raised an eyebrow. "As I recall, you were shooting at them rather angrily."
"Just support. Still outnumbered in close-quarters combat," Sanders commented, as if his contribution was irrelevant.
"And Lockley was right there with me with that pair of Daqtaghs he still keeps as souvenirs. So that's three on three. And you act surprised that I did alright? I think I'm offended, Sanders." Again, Tauvits' tone was a deadpan.
Sanders grinned at last. "Just trying to help contribute to the image. People are more scared of you if they think of you as some conquering, vengeful fellow driven violently mad in his plight against pirates. People don't feel sorry for the pirates, but they don't want to cross you."
"But when it's you and I talking, you don't need to glorify me. It gets creepy." Tauvits leaned back in his chair. "What can I do for you, anyway? You suggested this was... important. I assume you have more on Forrest?"
"Yes." Sanders nodded. "I assume you've located him on board?"
Tauvits returned the nod. "Wriggled the location of his quarters out of a quartermaster last night. He's here, I know where to find him. Question is, should I, or will you be sending the boys in gold over and save me the trouble?"
Sanders grimaced, obviously shifting PADDs about off-screen. "Well, most of his connections are of the 'true yet unproven' flavour, which Security is REAL happy about. Every time anyone tries to investigate him or his files, a higher-up swoops in and stops them. You know Forrest has been a desk jockey his entire life? The favourite of some Admiral, and he's a senior advisor to Starfleet Security. All down to favouritism."
"You're just encouraging me to kill him, Chris."
Sanders smiled thinly. "It's hard to pin down anything. I did, however, get some people to poke around in his computer files. Nothing legal, so nothing we can bring up in a court of law, and something they would have my behind kicked out of the fleet for if these favouring higher-ups knew about it."
"And if you were officially 'fleet," Tauvits said.
"That too." Sanders nodded. "But Cyrus Doyle really wasn't kidding around with Forrest's affiliations with his kid brother. I got to the man's accounts... when Marcus Doyle died, a whole lot of his network fell apart, and has been falling apart since we took down the Blades, because his base of support has faded. Fronts for funding which were once secure have since been proven as being his alternate identities. Forrest's had an awful lot of transactions with many of them."
Tauvits frowned. "That sounds suspicious alone. I assume you want me to deal with him?"
"I'd like it." Sanders grimaced. "Falco, you know I can't officially sanction you to take action. Even under the flag of Theseus. You get a lot of lee-way on this mission, but if you step out of line Command WILL come down upon you. People are worried as it is that you'll stop playing pirate and turn serious. You have a neat deal here, with Starfleet funding, and only so long as I vouch for you one hundred per cent can you be guaranteed a Get Out of Jail Free card. Don't make me worried about what you're doing."
"So what do you want me to do?" Tauvits frowned. "I have to do something to please Cyrus Doyle. This could be our foot in the door. If I kill Forrest for him, we could see the Coalition collapsing within a MONTH."
"You are optimistic, I think, but your point is valid." Sanders nodded. "I never told you that I think it might be good if you snooped around more and anonymously linked information to security. I never told you that I think Commander Forrest is a scum-bag Starfleet would be well-rid of.
"But if it went to trial, he'd be locked up for a good while. Not killed." Sanders looked at Tauvits warningly.
"I'll use my own judgement. Thanks." There was a discreet pause as Tauvits regarded Sanders. "Is there anything... particular in the files regarding his involvement in what happened to the Thunderchild?" He sounded nervous just asking.
Sanders grimaced. "There's a lot of funding going into his account before the disaster. And, also, before the disaster, some funding - not as much, half the amount, in fact - going out of his account and into one which we suspect may have been used by the Kahless Blades. Nothing conclusive."
Tauvits' expression closed up. "Conclusive enough," he mumbled. "I'll deal with the man, don't you worry, Chris. He won't be an informant sitting in the lap of Security for much longer. I can guarantee it."
"Falco, you go off the rails and I CANNOT protect you," Sanders warned harshly. "You go vigilante against him and you WILL be arrested and the Theseus mission shut down. You hear me? You can't do your heroic justice-against-the-system gig this time. If you must act, act in Doyle's play. Hear me?"
Tauvits scowled, his expression darkening further. "I hear you. I'll... look into it. However much I can. Thanks, Chris." He reached out to turn the screen off.
"Wait." Falco raised an eyebrow at him. "There's one more reason I need to talk to you. It's about your daughter."
Tauvits leaned back, his angry expression fading to a worried one. "Clare? What's happened?"
Sanders grimaced, now looking even less happy. "We think she might be a target for someone amongst the remnants of either Marcus Doyle's group or someone with connections to the Kahless Blades. Someone trying to get at you."
Tauvits paused, glaring at a spot just above the screen for a few moments. "Can't you have people look after her? Watch her?" he asked tautly.
"We can. I just don't like her being on Earth. She's got your house, and your flat in San Fran, but she's still mostly on her own, and Earth's a busy place."
"What about Lara?" Tauvits folded his arms across his chest. "I'll get her to look in on Clare more."
"Your sister's got a JAG assignment elsewhere. And she's solid, I trust Lara, of course I do. But she's still a very busy woman with her own problems. It's not just a matter of her dropping in on Clare in the evenings, I don't like her being alone." Sanders took a deep breath, preparing for the inevitable explosion his next words would bring. "I want her to go back to Tina."
The explosion came, but subtly. Tauvits stared for a few seconds, his expression disbelieving, before he finally spoke. When he did, his voice sounded like hot needles plunging into flesh. "You want to send Clare back to my psychotic ex-wife where she can try to shape her mentally AND physically into some sort of CREATURE just as depraved as her?"
Sanders winced. "When you put it like that, Falco, I find it hard to believe you two are divorced," he said, shifting down in his chair. "But you have to understand, Clare would be safe with Tina."
"From criminals, maybe. From Tina? No. If I had to choose between my daughter being vulnerable to vicious, dangerous, vengeful mercenaries and pirates and being vulnerable to my wife, I'd pick the pirates any day of the week. And what's perhaps more telling is that I think Clare would choose the same thing." Tauvits rubbed his temples weakly. "I can't bring her on to the Theseus. That'd just be like throwing her into broken glass. But she's old enough to have a degree of choice as to what she wants to do."
"I wouldn't tell her about the risk until you know what do." Sanders sighed. "I can bring her underground if it's really, really necessary. But I know you want her to have some semblance of normality." He looked around. "Find me someone who you trust whose care she can be placed under, and I'll make it happen in terms of security, if necessary."
"I'm low on people I can trust, Chris. You're not safe, neither am I. Lockley's not viable, and neither's O'Neal. Everyone else I can REALLY trust is either on the Theseus, or dead, or, for about the two or three people who are left, they're not viable in other ways. Petersen does border patrol along Chak space, for Christ's sake, I might as well shoot her myself as send her there." Tauvits sank in his chair, scowling in defeat and concern.
Sanders shrugged helplessly. "Get me somewhere she can be by the end of this tournament, Falco, or I'm going to have to send her underground. Unless you want her to wind up dead."
"Of COURSE I don't want her to wind up dead!" The explosion came at last as Tauvits jerked upright, sounding just as afraid as angry. "I'm not losing her on top of... everyone else." He glanced away.
"Not... not everyone." Sanders frowned. "Did Tilia explain things to you?"
"Some." Tauvits shifted. "I never claimed to understand that Prophet stuff. Is it science?"
"In a way." Sanders shrugged. "I sent her to the Theseus because I knew she could help you. I know what you're like. She grounds you. You need that. Don't push her away. That could screw up your mission as much as yourself. And you know that's unacceptable."
Tauvits smiled humourlessly. "Of course, it's all about the mission." His words were sincere, and he nodded slowly. "Alright, Chris, I hear you. I'll look into Forrest, and have a think for Clare. And, I promise, I'm done kicking Tilia out. Whatever stands between us, I promise to at least listen to her."
"Good. I need you sane. And for that I need your mission working, your daughter safe, and your mental state taken care of." Sanders grinned encouragingly. "Take care, mate. I'll be in touch. Sanders out."
Tauvits sank back in his chair, scrubbing his face with his hands as he collapsed into silence for a few long moments. Once upon a time, he'd come to the betleH tournament as a holiday. Not anymore. Now, it was a job for him. Not competing just meant that he had fewer distractions from focusing on what was REALLY important here.
So he decided to head to the bar, for tonight, to have a think and do some asking around and see if he could deal with the issue of his daughter. Forrest could come in the morning. Clare was far more important.
But who the hell could he entrust a difficult, independent, and endangered seventeen year-old to in a galaxy of dangers with few friends and many people who'd love to kill him and anyone connected to him?
This was the question he pondered as he sat in The Lounge with a pint of the finest bitter he could find on tap up there, the burdens on his shoulder a lot heavier as they had been the day before, thinking and keeping an eye out for anyone who might appear and magically provide a solution.
Or just anyone who might appear and get drunk with him.
OFF:
<Tags to anyone up for a drink!>
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