Truth in the Lie

[Charlotte Matsumura 0]

Truth in the Lie

CDR Mal Alexander (NPC)

LTJG Charlotte Matsumura

 

 

The isolinear chip hit the desk with startling force.

 

"Consider this my resignation."

 

Commander Malcolm Alexander looked up from his secured terminal screen and blinked as his mind swerved from intelligence reports to the operative now hovering over him. His initial reaction -- a wave of relief at seeing her alive – was instantly shoved aside as he took in her body language: Charlotte Matsumura stood with her feet equidistant, dark eyes flaring. Her shoulders were tense, the muscles in her jaw clenched; even without her auspicious entry, he could feel the anger radiating off of her in waves. "Excuse me – what?"

 

Matsumura folded her arms across her chest and regarded him with narrowed eyes. "You heard me: I quit. I'm done; Intel can find another courier."

 

"Lottie –"

 

"Don't 'Lottie' me, Mal. And while you're at it, you should probably rethink your own career options. There's absolutely no excuse –"

 

"No excuse for what?"

 

"Being caught flat-footed!" She slammed her palms down on the desk, leaning forward. "Not once, not twice, not even three times! Four times now – at least! – we've been caught with our pants down when we should've known something was in the aether. You're the station chief; you're supposed to have the information, and you're supposed to know what's doing. Instead, it's my own regular crew that discovers a cache of Romulan weapons in the middle of some sacred idols; it's my own regular crew that nearly gets killed when Bryiam gets bombed."

 

She remained in position and tilted her head to the side. "And yet I had no inkling – none a'tall. Now that either means you're not keeping me in the loop, or you didn't know. But you're you, and you'd tell me if I were walking into a trap – somehow, someway, you'd let me know. So y'know what that means? That means you didn't know about any of this either. That's a problem. A very big problem."

 

"You think I haven't noticed? You think it's escaped my attention that I'm being left to twist in the wind?" Mal shoved his chair back, strong momentum carrying him to his feet. "I should have assets in place – contacts, informants, a staff -- other operatives! Near as I can figure, that's not on the menu. It's you and me on this particular 'operation.' That's it."

 

"Then no one wants this 'operation' to succeed."

 

Alexander sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He leaned forward on the desk himself, his posture mirroring hers, though his expression softened as he looked her in the eye. "The thought had occurred to me as well. An operation like this – we should have several assets in place, on the ship, on the station; I should be getting regular raw data feeds; more communication on back channels. And even if they chose to low-man it, their choice – no offense – wouldn't be a junior security officer."

 

"I know that. I'm so damned busy doing my day job that I've little chance to worm my way into the captain's good graces. If it were a long-term, high-value target, I could see it. But given the political realities, that's just not plausible; they want actionable intelligence now. You and I both know this isn't the way to handle it."

 

"The problem with that line of thought," Mal began, standing to full height, "is that it leads to one last, very troubling question." He rounded the desk, perching on the forward corner as he folded his arms across his chest.

 

Charlotte held his gaze with her own, eyes steady. She knew the unspoken question that had been lurking in the back of his mind, and voiced it: "If we're not here to do our jobs, then why are we here?"

 

Mal exhaled, releasing the tension that had been building. He nodded. "Exactly."

 

"Y'don't think –" Lottie paused, brow furrowing as her mind churned through the possibilities. She turned and stood beside him, leaning back against the desk. Her right arm brushed against his left. "Y'don't think we're window dressing, do you?"

 

"Window dressing?"

 

"A feint. A ploy. A distraction."

 

"A cover for another operation?" The commander mulled it over. "I've thought about that, but I think it really would be a waste of assets."

 

"How so?"

 

"Well, you're not exactly an underachiever. Your academic record; your psych profile; even the more recent ops we've run – all of them indicate you're more than capable of completing any mission they might hope to assign. And, while I'm a tad long in the tooth, I'm not exactly ready to be put to pasture," Mal explained.

 

"But wouldn't there have to be some level of truth to the lie – some level of competence visible, if we're blown?"

 

A cold feeling settled into the pit of Alexander's stomach. "Or if we're supposed to be blown."

 

Charlotte frowned. "There's always that."

 

Mal's grimace deepened as his mind turned over the possibility: What if we're supposed to be discovered? A timeline of events stretched before him, starting with his meeting with the Deputy Director. He'd been chosen as station chief for a reason – his relationship with Charlotte. Clark knew one of them – himself or Lottie – would figure this out; Clark was betting on Mal's relationship with Charlotte to help keep her under control, to keep her in the fold. That means need-to-know, he thought, and even I didn't need to know. That meant black – very black – and not something he wanted to be caught in the middle of. Not, at least, without knowing what it was.

 

"So...what do we do?"

 

Her question startled him from his trance. He gave a heavy sigh and shook his head. "I don't know. For now, I think our best bet is to proceed as normal. I'll start asking a few discreet questions and you can... well, of course, if you plan on staying?"

 

There was uncertainty in her eyes as she looked to him, mingled with no small amount of trust. She forced a smile and he watched as it grew sincere, matched by an impish twinkle. "Mum's always said I'm too curious for my own good."

 

His heart clenched. "Digging through this will be considerably more dangerous than your chemistry set, Lottie."

 

"I guess we'd better be careful, then, because I'm not letting you do this alone." Her hand came to rest on his elbow. "You know me better than that."

 

Impulsively, Mal unfolded himself and drew her to him. She melded into his embrace after only a slight hesitation, arms around his torso. He allowed himself the luxury to take in her warmth, the scent of her shampoo; to allow himself to show how glad he was she survived Bryiam. It was a long moment before he trusted himself to speak. When he finally found his voice, it was unusually heavy. "I do, love; I do, indeed."

 

***