Why is this cluttering up my harddrive and not filling one of my
fanfic100 requirements? Bah. It started out as a scene in a longer fic that was going to be vaguely comedic, and involve Zathras messing up a very simple assignment set by Sinclair, but the original 'plot' (I use the term loosely) was written on a bit of paper that I lost, oooh, a decade ago? (I'm old, dotcha know.) It ain't gonna be finished, so you get random scenes instead. Nyah.
So. Something that is *calculates* one third of my age. With no redeeming social value whatsoever. *smiley face*
And now, to bed!
Title: ... in triplicate
fanfic100 prompt #83 'And'
*
I hate my life, Ivanova decided, staring at her desk. I want a refund. She stared up at the ceiling, half-expecting a lightning bolt for that thought.
Nothing.
And a complimentary goods basket, she decided to risk. Barely a second later Corwin's voice patched through her link. "Ivanova, go."
"Ambassador Mollari insists on seeing you, Commander."
The Commander stared up at the ceiling and offered a silent prayer as an apology. I asked for that. But still, couldn't you let up... just once? Just kill Mollari on the spot. Please. No answer seemed forthcoming. "Send him in," she sighed.
Could this day get any worse? The first thing her link had informed her - after making sure that she had overslept by resetting itself to call her half an hour later than it should have - was that her flight clearance had expired. Ivanova had been justifiably outraged at this, since she had flown in a Starfury barely a month before. A quick check of the records had revealed that mutinous assaults on Earthforce Destroyers in the middle of a declaration of independence did not qualify as 'flight experience'. According to the computer, she had not been in a Starfury for six months. Which meant that she couldn't lead her squadron to intercept the Earthforce cargo ship headed their way, as her flight visa, of all things, had expired (and her cockpit computer, despite the technician's best attempts, would not let her start up the engine without it). She had to apply for a new one, and wait the required three days.
She had gone to the customs office. She had kept her voice below 120 decibels in requesting a speedy reissue. She had even spared the clerk when she had been informed that due to "G'Quan's reflection" she could not get a speedy reissue. In fact, she would not be able to get any reissue in the next week, as half of the security force was going to take an impromptu holiday.
She had walked with calmed, measure steps to Citizen G'Kar's office. She had waited twenty minutes to see him on having been informed that the Citizen was very busy with diplomatic duties he was not supposed to be carrying out. She had refrained from wringing G'Kar's neck when she had seen a pair of human females walk out of the "very busy" Citizen's office. They could have been there to aid the war effort. They could have been there to ice skate on the ceiling. It didn't matter. Ivanova studiously paid them no attention as she stalked past them into G'Kar office.
Only to be told that there was nothing to be done, as "G'Quan's reflection" was one of the most important Narn holidays. Barring a catastrophe, she'd simply have to wait a week.
Life was unfair.
Ivanova had taken it all out on her staff, of course. They were walking around on tiptoe with the cautious air of someone who has only just realised how close to death they really are. The only one who had remained consistently cheerful, despite her best attempts to destroy all good cheer whenever she encountered it, had been Corwin. And he is paying for that by serving a double shift, Ivanova thought evilly, fighting the irrational urge to cackle.
Which didn't come anywhere near to making up for this latest insult. "Aah, Commander, it is good to see that you in health, yes?" Londo Mollari's exuberant tones were salt on the wound.
"Is there anything I can do for you, Ambassador?" Ivanova asked through clenched teeth.
Londo affected not to notice, walking around her office as if he owned it. He picked up one of the medals on the mantelpiece; Ivanova made a mental note to have it disinfected at the earliest opportunity. "I think the question should be, what can I do for you, yes?" He smiled, showing the points of his teeth.
Ivanova was fast losing the last shreds of her patience. "Ambassador, I have had a very long, tiring day, and it is barely 11:00 am. Please get to the point before I have you thrown out for wasting my time." She smiled sweetly.
Londo put the medal down rather hurriedly. "I have heard about the Narn's rude desertion of you, Commander. Naturally, I am disgusted at their behaviour, and have come to offer my help."
"Your help." Ivanova stared at him.
"Why, yes, what are friends for, hmmmm? And we are friends, Commander, are we not?" His puckish pace creased into a smile.
"Bosom chums," Ivanova said flatly, fighting the urge to cross her arms.
"Ah, yes," Mollari drawled, his eyes lingering on the Commander's bust. "Such a charming human expression." His appreciative gaze met Ivanova's icy stare and wilted immediately. "And that is why I want to help you, of course. To cement our friendship..."
"What exactly are you proposing, Ambassador?" Ivanova interrupted. Her arms had folded by themselves.
"Why, to help out Mr Garibaldi, of course! We don't want a man of his talents to be, how shall I say it, disadvantaged by the loss of his security team, hmmm?" Mollari's smile grew with each word, unhindered by the bare hostility radiating from the Commander. "I want to, of course, assist him in this trying week by volunteering my own guards for..."
"No!" Ivanova snapped immediately. She had known what the offer was going to be, she had known the trouble it would cause, and had been waiting for Mollari to lay it on the table so she could outright reject it.
The Centauri's face fell. "You will not even consider it?" He asked, sounding near outrage.
Ivanova's face had formed, of its own volition, the expression she customarily reserved for people who owed her reports. Londo re-evaluated his own outrage and took that as his cue to depart, muttering something about needing to consider a relocation to a more friendly habitat.
Ivanova sat back down in her chair and buried her face in her hands. "Computer, time!"
"The time is... 11:03."
The Commander groaned and tightened her hold on her roots. One advantage to wearing your hair down was that you were free to rip it out at the roots whenever you felt the need.
"Rough day?" The fact that Garibaldi's sympathetic question was quite probably the only welcome intrusion in her miserable existence suddenly made Ivanova feel very depressed indeed.
"You have no idea," she groaned again.
"Uh huh," Garibaldi commented, swinging a chair around to straddle the seat, leaning on the backrest. "Wanna bet?"
"Trade you expired visa, irritable Narn, an unhelpful G'Kar and a helpful Londo," came Ivanova's voice under a pile of hair.
"Done," Garibaldi said instantly.
Ivanova lifted her hair away from one eye and peered suspiciously at him. "Is that rotting eggs?" She sniffed.
"No, it's Peria," Garibaldi corrected her irritably. "One took an unnatural liking to me. According to it, I'm a 'wonderful being'."
"Hmm, insensible as well as incontinent..." Ivanova commented.
"Watch it," Garibaldi warned, leaning over to playfully swat her on the arm. A thought suddenly hit him. "Incontinent? Is that why they smell so bad?" The thought made him suddenly want to take a very long, very hot shower.
Ivanova shrugged and disappeared under a curtain of hair again. "That's what Stephen says. Or said." She stared at the ceiling. Dwelling on Stephen's continued absence during this 'walkabout' of his was not precisely the cure to her ailing day.
"Thank you for telling me," Garibaldi muttered, sniffing the air.
"Welcome," Ivanova's hair answered. "Why are you here, apart to distract me from the numerous forms that are demanding to be filled in?"
"To ask about the numerous Narn that are demanding to be given a week off," the Security Chief replied, watching Ivanova's hair carefully.
The hair groaned. "No. I can't help. G'Kar isn't helping either, why don't you go and bother him? Better still, why don't you take Londo with you and arrange a relief programme?"
Garibaldi had no clue what the hair was talking about and frankly, he didn't want to know. "Look," he said, "I can't afford to lose that many men for a week. That would be catastrophic. I can barely afford to lose them for one day! Security will not be able to cope and..." he paused and looked around. "Where's the Captain?"
"Captain Sheridan," Ivanova's hair informed him airily, "is busy. Delenn has taken over from Ambassador Kosh in teaching him to fight legends."
"I take it this has nothing to do with Dungeons and Dragons...?" Garibaldi cracked.
The hair glowered at him. "I have no idea what you are talking about. And - this is a promise, Michael - if you start to sound like Kosh, I'll punish you." At Garibaldi's raised eyebrow, the hair clarified, "we'll see if keelhauling is possible in space. Understand?"
The Chief nodded and smiled. Ivanova 'punishing' him was a nice image. He'd keep that one in his mental Rolodex.
The hair seemed to sense this and glowered even more. Garibaldi thought it prudent that he admit defeat at this point and go and seek out G'Kar.
Ivanova's hair was left to its despair, only to be interrupted by Corwin three minutes later. "What?!"
*