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Charlotte Matsumura

Picket Fences

Picket Fences

CAPT Roane Townsend (NPC)

CDR Malcolm Alexander (NPC)

 

***

 

Malcolm Alexander knocked on the open doorframe leading to the office occupied by Roane Townsend. Storage boxes cluttered the floor and every flat surface; the walls had been stripped of all the personal photographs and memorabilia. Townsend himself stood behind his desk, a PADD in each hand, frowning as he reviewed the information. "Please tell me you're not stupid enough to be mixed up in this, too," the operative said.

 

Townsend looked up and, for the first time, Mal saw that he now wore four pips on his collar. The senior officer raised his brow. "Please tell me you know me better than that."

 

Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, Alexander hunched over, entering the office. He shrugged a shoulder. "Thought I knew Clark, too."

 

"Point. Though neither one of us was surprised."

 

At this, Mal shook his head. "Not in the slightest. Always struck me as a slimy bastard, anyway." He offered a lopsided grin. "Congratulations on the promotion."

 

Roane raised his brows, then snorted. "Ah yes. Took twenty five years and my CO resigning in disgrace, but thank you." He gestured to the empty seat in front of his desk. "Tea?"

 

"Coffee, actually," Alexander replied. He folded his wiry frame into the chair, shifting a box aside with his foot. "Black, two sugars."

 

Townsend chuckled as he turned to the replicator. "Black coffee? Next, you'll be wanting 'cookies' instead of biscuits."

 

"Cookies, biscuits; chips, fries..." Mal looked up at Townsend as he returned with two cups. He took his carefully, a grin curving his lips. "Doesn't matter what you call it, so long as it tastes good." A pause. "But you didn't send for me just to argue the merits of Queen's English."

 

The captain chuckled, lowering himself into his own chair, then sipped his tea. "No, I suppose I didn't," he replied, "though I'd suggest for you to get thee back to Albion, my friend."

 

"As soon as is humanly possible, Roane. But first...?"

 

"But first, I have a job to offer you."

 

"Roane –"

 

Raising a hand to cut short any protests, Townsend shook his head. "C'mon, Mal. You're a straight arrow, and you have field experience that far exceeds my own; there's no way in Hell you'd pull what Clark did. And we need people we can trust now, more than ever."

 

"I can't, Roane. I really can't." Alexander sighed. "I took the job at Camelot as a favor – to Charlotte and to Ronin. I didn't take it because I'm ready to be put out to pasture."

 

Roane arched his brows."And you think serving as director would be putting you out to pasture?"

 

"Another five years, and it might sound pretty good. But for now, yes, it would be." Mal shook his head. "You're much better suited to this than me; you and I both know I'm still too rough around the edges to tolerate all the...bureaucracy."

 

"That's incredibly ironic coming from someone who has specialized in Romulan infiltration."

 

Chuckling, Mal took a sip of his coffee. "Point taken. But you know as well as I do that working undercover draws on a very different set of skills."

 

"Skills you already have."

 

"Skills that draw on reserves and tax my system because they are learned. I have no talent for diplomacy, Roane; it's never come naturally to me. Ops would be much better off putting you into the position permanently."

 

The captain shook his head. "I'm not sure that's true, but thank you."

 

"You're welcome," Alexander replied. "Look, despite our differences over the years, I know you're a good man who wants to do a good job, and can handle the upper echelon a Hell of a lot easier than I can. You have a wife and kids, and white picket fence. Just – take the job and enjoy them while you can."

 

"Very philosophical, coming from you." The corners of Townsend's lips twitched in quiet amusement. "So what happens when you find a wife, and decide to start a family?"

 

"I may find someone eventually," Mal said, giving a wry smile, "but I'm not the white picket fence type."

 

"And if she is?"

 

"She won't be."

 

This piqued the captain's curiosity. "Already met her, have you?"

 

Alexander leveled a glare at his commanding officer that was at once withering and amused. "Any news on my orders?"

 

"One of my first meetings as the director," Townsend replied, "was to discuss the situation with Admiral Taren. Clark's actions leave the situation very much in question. By the same token, The Powers that Be feel it is essential to maintain assets in that sector. Given the ambiguity, you'd be well within rights to request a return to the field."

 

At this, Mal nodded. "And Matsumura?"

 

"DIRSI has left her placement up to my discretion. She's obviously green, but her reports show excellent progress and analytic ability. Given that she's just getting her feet under her, I'm not sure I'm ready to pull her back just yet."

 

"Then I stay at Camelot."

 

Roane arched his brows. "Oh?"

 

"You said yourself that she's green, and just getting her feet under her. If you continue to use her as an asset, she's going to need a station chief out there she can trust; she trusts me."

 

"Mal, I know you and Ronin are old friends, but there's no need for you to protect her. I'll make sure she gets someone capable."

 

"Not someone capable. Me." Mal shook his head. "I made a promise, Roane. Help me keep it."

 

Townsend frowned. "You're making this personal, Mal."

 

"I am. But you and I both understand that I'll never make admiral, and you know that I'll never be sitting in that corner office." Alexander looked directly at his interim commanding officer. "Personal is what counts."

 

The captain gave Mal a long appraisal, but chose not to voice his thoughts. At length, he nodded with a sigh. "Done."

 

Mal nodded. "Thank you." Draining the last of his coffee in a gulp, he stood and placed the empty cup on the desk. He looked around. "Good luck with the move."

 

"Going to take more than luck, old man," Roane replied with a dark chuckle.

 

A wide grin broke across Alexander's features. "You said it."

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