Chapter Ten
The day had begun for Marrissa with the arrival of the Queen at her flat, not that she'd realized that it was the Queen at the time. Her voice hadn't actually been that loud, but as dawn had approached, Marrissa's sleep had lightened. The simple discussion of tea types between the Queen and Counselor Troi had been enough to rose Marrissa from her sleep and out of her room in the flat, the room that was quickly becoming her own.
On the wall where she would see it when she woke up was a large picture of the Bridge of the Enterprise with the current Command Crew standing around her father, who was seated in the Captain's chair. The bed had been against that wall, but with the way the mullioned windows cascaded sunlight in the morning across it, Marrissa had decided that she didn't need the bed there for the reason her father had put it there. She didn't need to get up at six hundred hours every morning, she was on leave. She glanced at the chronometer, a very accurate one, and as Great Aunt Clarrissa had told her, very expensive, model that used to be on top of the roll top desk. It was six hundred hours, local time. She groaned. So far she had only been able to sleep in once.
Given that today was really the first day that she had an excuse not to go on her morning run, Marrissa had thought she'd sleep in. She got up from the bed, slipping her new night gown over the lose shift she'd been convinced to wear to bed, and exited her room. Her room was next the kitchen, and she stumbled into it, still not quite awake. Some how a cup of her recently discovered favorite tea, heavily creamed, with a teaspoon of strawberry juice, found it's way into her hand. She sipped it as she stood next to the replicator, letting the warm liquid wake her up with each sip.
"So, are you prepared for today," Victoria asked. The Queen had apparently just arrived as a dress in it's plastic storage drape was lain over the back of on of the kitchen chairs. "I've arranged for the carriage to leave from here."
"I think so," Marrissa responded after a deep sip. "I've got my dress, I'll just put my hair up, put it on and I'll be ready to go." She noticed that Troi and Victoria were exchanging a look.
"Please tell me that the art of preparation isn't totally lost in Star Fleet," Victoria said, putting down her own tea cup on the nearby counter. "I don't expect the Engineers, grimy folk they are, but at least a Captain's daughter should know how to prepare to knock the boys off their feet."
Troi's smile seemed to worry Marrissa a bit, as Troi replied, "I'm afraid that Marrissa has always been a bit of a tomboy, and living for the last year with the Captain hasn't helped. I'm certain we can remedy that lack of training today. As for the boys, unless I miss my guess, she's already well on her way to capturing the boy she's set her sights on."
"I have not set my sights on Jay," Marrissa said, feeling her face get warm. Jay was just her best friend, even if they had kissed.
"Did I say anything about Jay?" Troi asked, looking at Victoria, who shook her head. "Now that you mention it, I do seem to recall an incident with a certain Lieutenant j.g. Jay Gordon of the Independence a few weeks ago. Perhaps you might recall him, blond hair, blue eyes, about four centimeters taller than you. His parents served on the Enterprise-D since she was commissioned. I think I recall him delivering a rather passionate kiss at the time." Marrissa certain her face was red now. "If I'm not mistaking the recipient of that kiss is standing in front of us, your majesty."
"Oh really," Victoria said. "I assume he is an officer and a gentleman?" Marrissa shot a look of warning to Troi, willing her to read the thought that she didn't want to discuss Jay.
"An officer, at least," Troi responded. "We'll have to get more from Marrissa later to determine the gentleman part. After all she's been best friends with the boy since they were toddlers. I think we'll have to do something with the hair first."
"Yes, the ponytail has to go," Victoria stated, moving to look at Marrissa at another angle. "It's long enough for some cascading waves." The Queen assessed. "It should go just about a decimeter down her back, right?" Marrissa nodded in confirmation. It looked like for the moment the topic of Jay was pushed aside.
For the next hour they worked on each other's hair, or rather they worked on Marrissa's hair and their own. Marrissa had nothing to contribute to the discussion. She hadn't had any real preparation for something where she had to dress up outside of her uniform, save one junior dance which Jay had taken her to back before her parents had died. Even then, her hair had remained up in that ponytail and the only fuss had been over her choice of dress.
This time they washed her hair and styled it, using curlers and something called a hot iron, which Marrissa thought was a tad dangerous. The dress she'd chosen was pronounced entirely unsuitable, and the next thing she knew Senora Tivara had come up from her shop below. With pins, needles and fast sketches, which Marrissa only caught by glances, a new dress emerged from her hands.
Through it all, the Queen was in charge, with the able assistance of Counselor Troi. Each bit of change, each alteration, came at her suggestion, and Marrissa found herself yielding to them. Finally her hair was done, her makeup, another new experience for her, done, and the dress was on.
The mirror was slid in front of Marrissa for the first time that day, and Marrissa looked from her feet upwards at the changes that had been made. Her boots had been replaced with two-inch heals, one of her few victories. She'd never worn heals before, and anything higher would have been too much, as Counselor Troi had agreed. The dress was darkest black, with a crimson pattern that swirled up from the floor to caress her breasts. Under that dress, she had very comfortable black lace underwear, supporting and lending a bit of volume to her small chest. The dress ended in the same collar as her first Star Fleet Uniform had, with golden buttons, the shape of the old Earth United Kingdom Army insignia for her rank on both sides.
Then there was her hair. Marrissa had always kept her hair in simple styles, ones that were easy to put up and get on duty. It was not something she had ever really considered. At the Queen's and Troi's insistence, she had let them style her hair, making it cascade in locks, down over her shoulders, rippling like golden waves breaking over the rocks. Troi stepped in front of her for a moment and added one last item, a sliver tiara that kept the hair back. Taking in her image, she had to admit that she looked like the Princess she was.
Her father had always called her his little Princess, and she'd loved the way he did it, but until she'd arrived at Essex and spent some time on the planet, she hadn't realized exactly what a Princess was. In her mind it had been of a parasite, a clothes horse, going from function to dance, doing nothing other than being a pretty thing to look at on the Prince's arm.
Marrissa had never really seen the value of dressing up nice. She had always been a rough and tumble type of girl. She played soccer with her dad and her friends, often coming back with her clothes in a state that dismayed her mom. True, mom had been a Security Officer as well. She'd got the tomboy nature honestly from both sides.
Essex had been an eye opener for Marrissa. She'd seen the hard work that the monarchy, especially that of the Queen was putting in during the aftermath of the crisis. The Duchess, despite the Duchess's attempts at getting Marrissa to call her Aunt Clarrissa, Marrissa couldn't call her anything other than the Duchess, had supplied her with tales of the family doing it's duty in between the normal every day family things. The Duchess had been sister to two Kings that had served Essex until tragedy stuck them. Marrissa had asked why she still was an ardent monarchist, and the Duchess had replied with her statement that "duty should not cave in the light of tragedy, it should become firm with resolve."
As Marrissa took in her dress one more time, she heard the door opening behind her. "Your Majesty, your carriage awaits." She quickly identified the voice as that of the Duchess. "You better get into your dress quickly." Marrissa turned to see the duchess entering the room as the Queen hurried into the next room. "Did you have time to look over the defense proposal I sent you last night?"
"Yes, we'll talk in the carriage," the Queen replied before the door slammed shut. The Duchess was already dressed in her black lace dress, which like Marrissa's was highlighted with crimson, but as an underside layer, not as part of the pattern.
"Well, Marrissa, I see that they pulled no stops this morning with you," the Duchess said. "I take it that you haven't been informed as to exactly how we're getting to the memorial service?" Marrissa shook her head, resulting in the unaccustomed feeling of her hair moving across her shoulders. "Traditionally, the Royal Family arrives at these events by carriage pulled by horses. Finding a carriage to borrow proved to be a bit harder than expected, but I have managed to get one that will seat the four of us. The Etxearen Erregela Jaun, who happens to be my son-in-law, fortunately had one to spare, and was with a bit of prodding, willing to let us use the better one. Since his daughter lives next door, we've decided that the Act Building on Settlement Street would be a good place to start off our precession. We'll be heading down Settlement Street, to turn onto Princess Kaihime Avenue, which ends like the other Seven Princess Avenues at the plaza in front of the Cathedral of Saint Domingo de Guzman."
"May I ask why the strange mix of Asian Princesses, English Monarchs, and Basque Saints?" Marrissa said, genuinely curious. Her history searches on Essex had focused on the government and broad outlines of the history.
"The Seven Princesses aren't really Asian," the Duchess said, checking Marrissa's dress. "King Charles II's wife did have a bit of Asian blood in her, but not much. She did, however develop a fascination with Japanese names after she and then Prince Charles were rescued by the Columbia NX-02. The Columbia at the time was under her fifth Captain, from whom Charles II's first daughter and successor received her first name, which she reigned under. The name of Dawn Princess, Asahime, was actually quite fitting of Essex's first native born royal."
"Charles II ... wasn't he the King that was his father's Prime Minister for a while?" Marrissa asked. She'd felt that was nepotism at first, when she'd noticed that on the list, but after a bit of delving into the King's record a Prince and Prime Minister, the judgement had changed. The third King of Essex had been one of those classic Renaissance Men, intelligent, capable, and deserving of a bigger place in the history books than as a Head of State for a small then colony world.
"Yes, and his seven daughters are the reason why there are Basque on this, Essex's largest island." While they waited for the Queen to put on her dress, the Duchess told Marrissa the tale of the Seven Princesses of Essex and how they'd rescued the Basque following the tragedy that had befallen them in their native land along Earth's Bay of Biscay. She told of Kaihime, the Forgiving Princess, who had protected the little boy whose playing in the abandoned terrorist bunker had triggered the holocast of the land. She told of Narihime, the Gentle Princess who had lead the relief effort, and cared for the orphans and those without family after the tragedy. She told of Masahime, the Honest Princess, who had arranged for the transport. She told of Chikahimi, the Wise Princess, who had quietly paved the way for the Basque on Essex. She told of Tamihime, the People's Princess, who spent her life working to make the Basque on Essex welcomed by all. And lastly, she told of Yukihime, the Snow Princess, who as the youngest had little to give, but gave so much with her smile and laughter.
As they finally descended the stairs to the street, Marrissa wobbling on her unaccustomed heals, Marrissa had a new appreciation for what it meant to be a Royal of Essex. It was an ancient line, whose first throne had been William I, the Conqueror of England in 1066. It had paid for many lessons in blood of others, and their own. Historically it was matchless, and it was obvious to Marrissa that the duty was both bred into and well taught to the family line. If duty was a genetic trait, the monarchs of Essex had shown it in spades, from the first King, who had lead the fledgling colony from underneath the cloud of an erupting volcano like a modern Moses, to the current Queen, who put long hours in trying to make sure all her people's needs were covered in the wake of the near total destruction of her government and its bureaucracy.
As she climbed into the carriage she could see the royal motto below it's simple rampant lion shield. "Officium Accredo," it stated. Duty accepted wholeheartedly, a motto that Marrissa felt she could and should take as her own. As an officer in the fleet, or as a princess, it mattered not. Duty was something the family shared, both her families, the Captain and the Doctor in the stars and the Royal Family around her.
...
Captain Jean-Luc Picard stood in the narthex of the Cathedral of Saint Domingo de Guzman. The narthex was filled with the wandering members of Parliament, awaiting the arrival of the Queen at the Memorial Service. He was looking for one particular man in the sea of black suits and dresses, intermixed with the dress white uniforms of Star Fleet. Finally he spotted the man, and walked over to him.
"Mister Dessalines?" Jean-Luc said to the tall man. Jean-Luc took a quick assessment of the man, deciding that the assessment of the Prime Minister concerning the man was befitting. The man was a politician of no small ability, but something about him told Jean-Luc that this man wasn't a man to be trusted. Maybe it was the man's walk, or perhaps the way he stood with his right hand massaging his left elbow. It didn't matter, Jean-Luc didn't need the man to be trust worthy. Better if he wasn't actually.
"Captain?" Ely began, his eyes darting to the rank pips on Jean-Luc's collar. "What can I do for you?" Jean-Luc was surprised that the man needed to double check the rank before addressing him. Surely the man should know on sight the Captain of the Federation Flagship, the vessel which had come to his planet's rescue.
"Jean-Luc Picard of the Enterprise, sir," Jean-Luc said, slipping into the role which he judged best worked with the Opposition Leader. "You're the Leader of the Progressive Party and father of Lord Martin Sussex?" Ely nodded. "We just informed the Queen a few minutes ago, and since it directly impacts your son and you are the leader of the Queen's Loyal Opposition..." The term almost stuck in Jean-Luc's throat. "... early this morning Lieutenants Daniel and Clarrissa Sutter, Prince and Princess of Essex passed away as a result of injures incurred serving the Federation. Your son just took two steps closer to the throne."
Jean-Luc watched as the man his face was drawn in sadness, the frown and slight change to the nose was almost perfect ... but the eyes, to an experienced Captain like Jean-Luc Picard, the eyes told all. He couldn't describe it, there was just something about the set that said, triumph!
"Excuse me Captain, but I need to call and let my staff know ... I'll hold off telling Martin until after the service," Ely said. "Clara was one of his favorite cousins, and I think I should be the one to tell him." Jean-Luc filed away that piece of information, as Ely stepped away and brought out his communications device. Jean-Luc could barely hear Ely say, "He's Halifax, be prepared for ascension soon."
The last bit triggered something in Jean-Luc's mind. Prince or Princess of Halifax was the title automatically granted to the heir to the Essex throne, he'd learnt. Marrissa now held that title, whether she liked it or not, and Jean-Luc was leaning towards not. Mister Dessalines had something planned, soon, and Jean-Luc wasn't going to count on the Opposition's hand not being a Royal Flush. He tapped his badge. "Picard to Enterprise."
"Enterprise," Lieutenant Commander Data's firm android voice responded. "Is there a problem, Captain?"
"There might be, soon, Mister Data," Jean-Luc said, observing the crowded narthex beginning to get organized at the direction of the Master of Ceremonies. "I want you to keep a lock on the Queen and Marrissa, as well as maintain a full scan of the Cathedral."
"Understood, Captain," Data replied. "I have the network feed of the Cathedral Sanctuary on the main screen."
"Any update from Commander Riker?" Jean-Luc asked, as he took his place in line at the head of the Star Fleet delegation. The red brick in front of him had a number twenty two on it, right next to the door that the Queen would be arriving through in minutes. He really hadn't expected anything yet. The Trinity wasn't scheduled to be in clear scanning range for another thirty-one minutes.
"No sir," Data replied. "The border patrol records you asked for are in. I've updated all commands on the possibilities."
"Very good, Commander. Picard out." The doors were opening now, and through them Jean-Luc could see a horse drawn carriage coming to a stop. It was a classic black carriage with large windows. The angle was bad, so he couldn't see who was in it, until the footman lowered the step and began helping the ladies within out. First to exit was the Queen, followed by the Duchess of Norsex and her granddaughter Nozomi, all dressed in black.
Last to exit was a young lady that Jean-Luc didn't recognize at first. Her long blond hair descended in waves to her shoulders. She wore a simple, yet elegant silver tiara to control her hair. Unlike the others, her black dress of morning was accented by a crimson pattern that drew attention to and accented her bust. The lady seemed a bit unsure in her step at first, watching her step as she ascended the steps to the door, on the Queen's right. It was only when she reached the top that she looked up and Jean-Luc caught the dazzling smile of his daughter.
Jean-Luc couldn't believe how much more mature his daughter looked with her hair down and that form fitting dress. Her normal high ponytail made her look a lot younger than she was, this did the opposite and revealed a beauty that until now, Jean-Luc had not seen. As she crossed the threshold, her left heal got caught on it, and she started to fall. Jean-Luc caught her.
...
Queen Victoria I of Essex wished her first public duty as Queen hadn't been a memorial service. It was a wish that had been shared by many of her predecessors, a wish given the nature of succession that was never going to be met. The Essex Monarchy had tragedies before, ascensions that happened all too soon. Her great-grandfather George II had been just nine when his father died, and died when his own eldest son Richard was the same age of heat stroke. King Richard I had been the worst of the funerals until now. His coffin had been closed due to how he'd been shot by that deranged insane Cardassian War Veteran. He'd been buried beside his five daughters, also killed by the assassin, and his two day old successor, the baby King George III.
Her grandfather had once told her that he hoped that Essex would never have another tragedy like that family picnic. It had driven King George IV to private morning for years, and even with grandchildren, he still had times of sadness when he passed the picture of his eldest brother in the Parliament's Grand Hall. His generation had been the one of grief for the Royal Family, and his own death had been accompanied by a tragedy the likes of which the Federation itself had never seen.
So, Victoria walked down the center aisle of the Cathedral of Saint Domingo de Guzman, dressed in black, trying to hold back tears. There wouldn't even be a body to bury. The whole royal family, save herself, her cousin Hilda, and those following behind her had been vaporized, their atomized remains only marked by the miles wide crater that had replaced the center of Londondairy. As she reached the pew she was to sit in, the tears overwhelmed her. She kneeled and did the sign of the cross, before taking her seat in the front pew on the left side of the altar.
Behind her, she could hear her family doing likewise, as Barber's Adagio for Strings, the song of mourning, filled the air. The family was so small now that those in attendance barely filled the front row, and that only because the Etxearen Erregela Jaun filled the right side front pew with his young children and granddaughter.
Directly behind her were the Star Fleet Officers. Captain Picard's wife reached up to her and handed her a white handkerchief, so Victoria could wipe her tears from her cheeks. She nodded her thanks before bowing her head in prayer as the dignitaries and politicians paraded in. She let her grief overwhelm her for a moment, wishing that William was there to comfort her, like he'd been there for the nights since the Impact.
"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Sprit, Amen," the Pope's voice focused Victoria on the altar, as he began the Mass of Remembrance. "We are gathered here today by tradition and shared grief. Today is the day, and now is the hour for which we let loose our grief, unbind its restraint, and poor it upon the world following the deed which has humbled this world and brought to a premature end to so many of her people. We are gathered here today to remember not only the King, a gentle man of science who humbled himself in service to his kingdom, but to others. We gather to remember Heather Natchez, age six, only in the first grade with her life ahead of her. We gather to remember Nicholas Flamel, an old man known for his crotchety comments about the noise those young kids made, but who always had a lollypop for them when they passed his bench in the park. We gather to remember Lord Byron Hayfield, noted scholar, politician, and humorist. We gather to remember Commodore Joseph Shortbottom-Smit and his command, leader of Essex's Self Defense Force, sadly caught on the ground when the asteroid hit. We gather to remember all the men, women, and children, some ten million names that will never get to live their lives to the fullest. We gather in prayer, and remembrance, today, for them. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Sprit, Amen."
As the chorus took up the kyrie, Victoria noticed that Marrissa, who had been seated beside her, wasn't quite paying attention to the Pope. Instead her gaze seemed to be actively moving around the church, as if she was expecting something to happen at any moment. As the Mass progressed, Marrissa's gaze grew more active, and seemed to focus on the structures to the right and left of the altar, then, just as everyone stood to sign the alleluia, her gaze centered on the balcony to the right of the altar.
The clear young girl's voice rang out as she pushed Victoria to the floor, drawing a phaser that Victoria had not known her heir possessed, "Get down!" As Victoria was driven the floor by Marrissa's strong push she could see the green beam passing through where she'd just been, it's edge just catching the shoulder of her heir. Marrissa's phaser returned fire, the red lance of the phaser barely managing the catch the edge of the balcony where the shot had come from.
Apparently, Marrissa wasn't the only one armed, as two other phaser shots issued from the ranks of Star Fleet Officers filling the four pews behind the front row on the left, as Captain Picard's voice rang out, "Mister Data, beam them to Sickbay. Now!" The world dissolved in the haze of a transporter beam.
...
Marrissa was beginning to dislike Sickbay. Actually hate might be a better term for that. It had started with her first pelvic examine when she was ten, but after spending three days naked under a sheet recovering a week ago, it had risen to new levels. Yet once again, she'd ended in Sickbay again, this time with a scorched wound on the shoulder that hadn't been effected last time.
"Ow!" Marrissa said, as Doctor Selar ran the dermal regenerator across the scorched wound. Her left shoulder had been the most injured previously, and had been just a bit tender even before the disrupter fire had grazed it again. Marrissa was sure that it had been a disrupter this time, probably Romulan. The distinctive green hue grazing her was not something she was going to forget.
"Stay still, Lieutenant," Doctor Selar ordered, as she moved the regenerator across where her ruined back dress had been carefully pealed away. "It will just be another couple minutes if you stay still, and I promise this time, your uniform is waiting."
"Good," Marrissa replied. She looked up at the Queen, still in her black dress, standing next to Lieutenant Sutter's bed. "How is Clara's father doing?" Clara was sitting on the other side, her hand entwined with her father's.
"Lieutenant Daniel Sutter is improving, gradually," Doctor Selar said, as Marrissa noticed Clara finally looking up. "His injuries are healing well, and his digestive track should be resuming function shortly."
"Marrissa! What happened?" Clara exclaimed, standing up. Marrissa smiled back at her, then winced as Doctor Selar passed over a particularly sensitive spot.
"I got shot," Marrissa replied, simply. "Romulan disrupter at about twenty meters, I think." She had to resist the urge to shrug.
"Modesty becomes you, cousin," Victoria said. Marrissa turned to focus her attention on the Queen, resulting in Doctor Selar firmly moving her shoulder back where she wanted it. "Clara, it seems that Marrissa spotted someone about to open fire on me, pushed me over, and took the shot herself."
"I suppose that you're going to call this just doing your job again, like you did with saving Dad?" Clara said. The younger girl practically glared at Marrissa, moving around the bed to approach Marrissa. Marrissa nodded. "Marrissa, you saved my Dad's life, fighting a man armed with a sharpened sword, when you had no way to do more than defend yourself with yours. You were injured and kept going..."
"It is my duty as Chief of Security to see to the protection of all the Enterprise's compliment from people like that man," Marrissa said, firmly. "My posting as that may be stupid, and you can bet that I wish that I had almost any other post on this ship, but as long as it's my job, it's my duty and I'm going to do it to the best of my ability."
"Marrissa, if I'm not mistaken, you were off ship and off duty when you saved me," Victoria said, softly. "I saw where that beam hit. It would have killed me. Don't say it was your duty and undeserving of praise. Officium Accredo may be the royal motto, but even adherence to that motto deserved praise."
Marrissa felt tears forming in her eyes. "But I can't get formal recognition, not as long as I serve under my father's command. It's better if I deny it all. Better if everyone just sees me as a girl who does her job. I shouldn't draw attention to myself, it will only cause Father problems, especially the way Admiral Decker is hounding him. Letting everyone know that Father keeps his almost fourteen-year-old daughter under his command, serving as a full Lieutenant will just make things even worse, and now the Press will be aware. I'll have to leave the Enterprise. I don't want to leave the Enterprise. I don't want to leave the Captain and the Doctor. I don't want to leave my father."
Marrissa broke down in tears, her head cradled in her hands, as Doctor Selar stepped away. As she cried, the Queen and Clara moved to her side. They gently leant her their strength, hugging her as she sat on the end of the bio bed. Marrissa sat there in tears for a while, feeling the comfort of her cousins.
"Marrissa, if you'll let me, I'll try to help you with the press," Victoria said, her comforting arm still around Marrissa. "My father's press office was in Halifax Village, and survived. It's very good. I'm certain we can spin things to make everything land were we want it. As for taking you from the Enterprise, I promise to prevent that as long as I'm alive."
Marrissa looked up into the Queen's eyes, seeking hope in the amethyst depths that matched her own. With a sniffle, she straightened up, accepting the promise in them, and the hope it represented. "Thank you, your majesty."
"You're welcome, your highness," the Queen responded in turn, as the door to Sickbay's main ward opened. "Now, I believe you need to get out of that ruined dress and into uniform. If I'm not mistaken, Chief Nelson is here for a bit of a briefing."
"I am indeed," Chief Nelson replied as he came to a stop in front of the royals. "Though I think it might be advisable to wait until your breast is covered, Lieutenant. Some might find it distracting." Marrissa looked down, and realized with the way her dress had been pealed back, it was hanging from one shoulder, revealing her entire left breast. She quickly took the offered uniform. She looked around and couldn't spot anywhere to dress behind.
"Tory and I will hold up a sheet for you, Marrissa," Clara offered, noticing her best friend's glances. "I think you can start the brief once she's behind the sheet, though, Chief."
"I understand that you are fourth in line to the throne," Chief Nelson began. Marrissa saw Clara's nod just before Clara and the Queen raised the sheet from the bio bed to block everyone's view of her changing. "Then perhaps I better start a bit further back, as you are quite likely to get caught up in this as well."
"Hilda, I think you need to hear this as well," Victoria said as Marrissa carefully unfastened and stepped out of her dress. It was a shame that it had been ruined. Marrissa had liked the way she'd looked in it. "Chief, this is Lady Hilda, second in line for the throne, just after your Lieutenant."
"Lady Hilda, Your Majesty, Lieutenants," Chief Nelson began. Marrissa could hear in his voice that the Chief was trying to figure out where to start. "Let me begin with the assurance that Captain Picard and Prime Minister Lancaster have everything under control in the aftermath of your majesty and the Lieutenant's timely exit. There was a brief bit of confusion following your beam up, as was to be expected in the aftermath of an assassination attempt."
"Understood, Master Chief Nelson," Victoria said, as Marrissa folded up her dress and contemplated not changing the black lace panties for the more sensible ones that topped the stack of uniform parts. "I am most interested, however the investigation into the causes of the most recent tragedies to hit our planet."
"Understood, your majesty," Chief Nelson said, as Marrissa began switching her panties, having decided that a fresh pair might be a good idea. "Starting then with our investigation into the asteroid itself, we have reason to believe that the asteroid was cloaked until just before it hit the atmosphere. The geologists and stellar cartographers on the Enterprise have furthermore determined that the material composing the asteroid came from the companion star's gas giant's moons. At 0930, Commander Riker, temporarily commanding the Trinity began a discreet course to investigate, arranging the Trinity's departure course to match that of one to visit Beta Rigel, where apparently the Catholic Church maintains a monastery of some note. We expect a report from him at any moment."
Chief Nelson paused a moment, the last bit of his line slightly muffled by the uniform turtle neck sliding over Marrissa's ears. "In the matter of Princess Mary's death, and Lieutenant, you'll find all the material on this on your desk, we believe that there is Romulan involvement, in particular with the accessary deaths of her staff. One of the weapons used has been identified as that used by the Tal Shiar. However, the primary suspect remains her ex-husband, former Prime Minister Ely Dessalines. We believe he may be our common thread between the recent incidents, so we have not asked for an arrest warrant yet."
Marrissa sat down on the bio bed to pull on her boots, following her uniform jumpsuit. "Shortly before the attack on Lieutenant Daniel Sutter, Mister Dessalines was on a local video show that was broadcast from Naverre. During this show he made a point as to how threadbare the Royal Family's line of succession was at the moment, listing what he believed remained. As he listed the Sutters, his hand moved to his Adam's apple which he ran his index finger across, in a cutting motion, obscure as if it was an ordinary motion on his part. But the motion was only made during two names. This would not have caught our attention, save that it was one of the few planet side broadcast that Crewman Simmons is known to have watched. We probably wouldn't have caught that even then if Crewman Ericsen hadn't been going over it with a fine tooth comb on her own initiative."
Marrissa pulled her hair out from under the jumpsuit and zipped it up. "Chief, if you haven't already, put Sandy in for a commendation. That was good work. You can put away the sheet Clara, Tory." She adjusted the communicator a bit, as the sheet came down. "I think we've got enough to arrest Mister Dessalines on that point alone. May I assume we're just awaiting confirmation of the earlier half of the affair?"
"Yes, Lieutenant," Chief Nelson replied.
"Clara, Hilda, I assume that you'd like to stay here?" Marrissa asked. The two nodded. "Then, Your Majesty, perhaps you'd like to accompany me to the Bridge? I have a feeling that Lieutenant Commander Data may need me in a professional capacity shortly."
...
Commander William T. Riker surveyed the Bridge of the Trinity. It still had what was known in Star Fleet as Kirk era configuration, which was not surprising given that it was originally commissioned as the USS Appomattox NCC-1865 back when Kirk was still commanding the NCC-1701. It had, of course, been refurbished for the Pope. This had resulted in a bridge whose colors were not the black, white and grey, but a golden yellow, with rich walnut railings, polished gold fittings, and ornate labels above each station. The command chair he sat it was quite comfortable, more so than any chair on the Enterprise, than any chair he'd sat in during the time he'd served.
There was a nun at the helm, and a priest sat next to her at operations. When he'd come on board, Riker had been worried about the competence of the officers of the Trinity. That was before he became reacquainted with the helms woman, who had been at the Academy with him, before her faith had led to her dropping out to pursue a religious life. She'd recognized him, though it took a little bit for him to drag up the memory. Sister Stephanie, as she now went by had been top of her class, and Riker only a few tenths of a point behind her, when she'd dropped out. She'd introduced him to the rest of the Bridge Crew, and Riker had grown amazed at the core of veterans that the Pope had assembled.
The tactical officer had served with distinction during the last Cardassian War, retiring, having been acting captain of his own ship. Riker had spent his breakfast with Lieutenant Commander Daniels, retired, now a Franciscan friar, listening to his tales of that war. He'd some how acquired the nickname of Tuck since he'd entered the order. Father Sebastian at operations had actually taught at the Academy for a couple semesters, following his serious injury in that same war. Manning Communications, a separate station on a ship of that era, was the Cardinal Archbishop Elbam whose official job was apparently something to do with Liturgical Translations, who apparently could say Mass some insane number of languages. Finally there was the young novice manning the sensors at the Science Station. Deacon Joseph was apparently the one that got away from Star Fleet. He'd failed his exam to entry the Academy by one hundredth of a point, and turned to the church. The Pope had swiftly grabbed the young man for his newly purchased starship, and he'd been serving aboard her ever since.
"Entering scanning range for our target in thirty seconds," Daniels announced. Riker turned his chair to face the Science Station.
"Tuck, keep a finger on those shields," Riker ordered. "Deacon Joseph, are you ready?"
"Yes, Commander," Deacon Joseph replied. "I've set up the scan, and but I think we've got another problem. Tuck, put one oh two mark six on screen."
Riker swivelled back, and caught a ripple passing through the stars. "Red Alert, shields up, all hands to battle stations," he ordered. "Cardinal, alert the Swiftsure."
"Commander, I've got another one," Deacon Joseph reported, as the lights dimmed into battle red. "And mass readings are confirmed. It was from the seventh moon."
"Two Romulan vessels decloaking to the port and starboard!"