Unmasked (Pt. 1)

[Charlotte Matsumura 0]

Unmasked

LTJG Charlotte Matsumura

LCDR Malcolm Alexander

***

 

 

Carefully balancing a small tray in one hand, Charlotte Matsumura reached for the doorchime to the quarters assigned to their Intelligence guest, "Gaius tr'Argelian." Before she could reach the panel, however, she heard his voice behind her. "Surely you have better things to do with your time than to play attendant to me," he said.

 

Turning, she offered a weary smile. "Certainly. But, as I wasn't sure if they had instated your replicator privileges, I thought I might try again. Even pseudo-Romulans require sustenance for survival."

 

"Despite the fact that your senior officers might prefer me to wither and die?"

 

Charlotte noted the mischievous gleam to his eyes, the teasing tone, and felt a blush creep across her cheeks. "Yes, well, given our current predicament, I thought it might make things worse if we allowed one of our own to die of starvation simply because we didn't like what he was wearing."

 

Their guest chuckled darkly. "I'll try to dress more appropriately, next time I'm aboard." His eyes still gleaming, he stepped closer to her – close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from him – as he reached for the access controls. Without losing eye contact, he tapped in his code. "After you," he said.

 

She stepped quickly into the room, glad to put some distance between herself and tr'Argelian. She then crossed to the coffee table and carefully lowered the tray to the surface. "As before, I wasn't quite sure what your preference might be, so I brought some of the basics: Black tea; lemon and cream – your choice; biscuits; and a scone with some clotted cream. No cucumber sandwiches, though; the lounge replicator just can't get them right."

 

"And how, pray tell, did you deduce I might want tea?"

 

"Your accent." She smirked as his brows raised in surprise. "You cover it well, but I recognize it: it's Welsh, with a touch of Old Etonian posh."

 

"I see." Abruptly, Gaius looked away, approaching the coffee table and directing his attention to the tray. He made a show of examining the various biscuits on the tray; Charlotte couldn't shake the feeling he was avoiding her eyes. After a moment, he selected a thin, oval shortbread with a light coating of chocolate along the bottom. "And you're familiar with such an accent?"

 

"Very; it reminds me of home." Her mind drifted back to the owner of said accent, Malcolm Alexander, and she felt a slight pang. Even after her time aboard Excalibur, she found forming friendships among the crew difficult. She'd once thought to call Garrison friend. Now, she wasn't sure. A friend, maybe, but not a close one, she reasoned. Still, a friend aboard ship would have been a comfort amidst the uncertainty they now faced. Perhaps that was why she felt drawn to their unwelcome visitor?

 

"Well, then," Argelian said at length, "I'm glad I can offer a friendly reminder."

 

Clearing her throat, Charlotte decided a change of topics was in order. "How did the discussion with our – ahem – real Romulan guests go?"

 

The pseudo-Romulan offered the small plate of biscuits toward her. She waved them away with a smile of thanks. "About as well as can be expected," he replied. He returned the saucer to the tray, then seated himself, directing his attention to preparing a cup of tea. "The commander played her cards close to her vest. Most of her crew had no knowledge of the finer details; those among our guests that do, well, they aren't going to offer."

 

She nodded silently."I suppose we could apply some pressure –"

 

"After the incident in the brig, and given that Excalibur is holding them illegally – they were brought aboard in the naval tradition, not as prisoners, after all – I'd say Mister Garrison couldn't risk it."

 

"He's good at what he does," Charlotte replied. She could mentally envision Garrison attempting to pump information from their reticent Romulan guests. "What happened earlier... it was a bit out of character for him. This whole mission has everyone off balance."

"Understandably so." The intelligence operative sipped his tea experimentally, wincing as he found it a touch too warm. He leveled a gaze at her. "Though worse tactics have been used in some instances."

 

The steady gaze sparked confusion and Charlotte fought to keep the crease out of her brow. Surely he didn't know she was Fleet Intelligence, did he? "Not generally by serving line officers. Worse tactics are generally left to...specialists."

 

"Specialists in controlled environments," Gaius replied, "of which the Excalibur brig is not." A slight smirk tugged at the corners of his lips over the rim of his teacup. "But slight accommodations can sometimes be made to great benefit."

"You got something from them, then?"

 

"We were able to verify some of the intelligence we've been able to glean... and offered a few new insights." He shrugged a shoulder. "In the end, probably not so much. Enough to add to the file, at the least."

 

"At this point, I suppose we shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth."

 

Gaius gave her a lopsided grin. "Unless of course, they're Greeks."

 

She quirked an eyebrow. "Beware of Greeks bearing gifts?"

 

"Exactly."

 

The smile she offered in return faded slowly, a strangely heavy silence falling between them. At length, she cleared her throat in an attempt to break the tension. "Yes, well, I suppose I should be getting back."

 

A gentleman beneath his makeup, Gaius rose as she turned to leave. He crossed to escort her out and Lottie could feel his hand hovering just at the small of her back. "Thank you for the tea. It's greatly appreciated."

 

"You're quite welcome."

 

The corners of his eyes wrinkled slightly as he smiled down at her, but his eyes were somber. "Do be careful out there, love."

 

Charlotte blinked. A chill washed over her, and she could feel the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. "What did you just call me?"

 

"Lieutenant."

 

"That wasn't what you said. You – you called me –"

 

Their eyes locked. Intense emotion flared briefly, stealing her breath before it was blinked away. His voice was different when he spoke, syllables tightly controlled. His accent was softened by a hint of Romulan. "What is it you think you heard, Lieutenant?"

 

(TBC...)