"Pulling the Strings"

She looked over at the door, not for the first time, steepling her fingers as she awaited her visitor. The Aquarius had docked almost an hour before, and yet still she sat, waiting. The instructions had been very clear that she was, in fact, not to be kept waiting, but apparently that had not sufficiently put the metaphorical spring in her guest's metaphorical step. So there she sat, reading field reports and other such intelligence. Still. Waiting.

It was a full ten minutes before the door finally chimed and Atton Jetrel sauntered in after door opened. He took a moment to take in the surroundings. They were cold and sterile in a generic way. Nothing to indicate anyone who had human emotions resided in here. It suited her perfectly. "You didn't have to spring for such lavish quarters for me. I can see you gave if the old Fiona charm."

Ignoring him, she closed her eyes, steeling herself. "You are forty-five minutes late. I know exactly how long it took your ship to relieve the command staff of duty. Where, precisely, have you been?" She stopped herself, before accosting him for dereliction of his real duties, intentionally making her sit and wait for him, and generally antagonizing him.

He took the moment her eyes were closed to really enjoy her frustration, sitting down in the chair at the opposite corner of the room. "Well, Julia had to pull me aside to goad me into babysitting, which meant I was in the rush of ensigns and non-comms to get off the ship. Then a vendor on the promenade was selling authentic Risan honey, so of course I had to check it out. I also spent something like ten minutes outside your door, just enjoying your slow simmering rage. It's a hate not quite like anything else I've ever experienced, and it's really your only redeeming quality."

Fiona looked up at him, eyes blazing and jaw set. She didn't really know he got away with provoking her so brazenly. She'd reported him half a dozen times for his attitude, yet the powers that were did absolutely nothing to curtail him or rein him in. It was absolutely infuriating.

"Never mind that," she finally snapped, breaking the hate-fueled eye contact to look down at the padd and hold it out, making him come to her if he deigned to take it. You have orders. Your captain will also be receiving her orders around now, if not soon. You'll find them... complementary." Her eyes glittered with a bit of malice. Maybe, with luck, he'd carry out this assignment and get himself taken out to Rura Penthe, and never again darken her door.

Atton grinned at her like a stupid child, before finally chuckling and crossing the room to take the padd as if it was nothing. Her hate wasn't the only thing unique about her. Fiona had a mind that resisted reading unlike anything he'd encountered, but when she boiled over sometimes a glimmer of something would slip. He didn't ponder how the Klingons could be involved until he'd turned his back to her to sit, not allowing her to read any expression. He sat in the chair in an aloof manner and began scrolling through the padd. It only took a few seconds before that aloof posture faded away. His brow furrowed as he continued to read, his mood darkening with each finger swipe of text.

When he'd finished, he didn't move in any way but to tilt his eyes up to lock with hers. He knew he wasn't doing a good job of hiding his disgust and he didn't care. "What the fuck is this?"

"Your assignment," she answered, calmly, as if in balance to how perturbed he was. "Your duty to Starfleet and the Federation, no less," she added, a touch too brightly. "We need somebody on the inside for this one, or it will never work."

"Oh, my duty?" He laughed incredulously. "My duty? According to this thing my duty is to aid a Klingon terrorist in killing not just members of Starfleet, but Federation citizens as well!" Atton stood up from his chair with enough force to tip it backwards into the wall. The padd collided with the wall just to the right of her head. He took a step towards her before pausing, thinking better of it. Why he was here. Why he was doing this. "I've done a lot of things for this organization. More than you'll ever know. Still, this is a new one. So you're gonna get me from point A to point B, and you're not leaving this room until you do."

Fiona shrugged nonchalantly. "I'll indulge you. Though I would think of it less as aiding a Klingon terrorist and more... positioning someone more malleable to our interests among the Klingon High Council." She sighed, drawing closer to "business-like." "More generally, your job is to facilitate an opportunity for this Klingon to prove himself indispensable to the High Council by dealing with the fringe element that this general, 'Vort,' represents. Simultaneously, he will rise to the greater attentions of Starfleet by being in the correct place and time to provide aid to a tattered Federation starship." Now, she smirked. "Ironically, of course, this means that we have to take out someone more patently aligned with Starfleet interests, but who will never please the warhawks on the side of the Federation. Poor Governor Bor'tesh," she added, almost as an afterthought. "Probably just a man before his time."

Atton let out a deep sigh, feigning acceptance. He already had, there was really only one issue he cared about in all of this. "I told you, after the Tzenkethi dreadnaught that if I was going to be...'active' to reassign me from Aquarius. I can't maintain a cover and assassinate a Klingon governor on that ship!"

"Why not? You're a telepath. If you get caught... you can fix the situation." She seemed deeply unconcerned. "I'm sure there will be some incident that will facilitate a sufficient cover, at any rate. If not... manufacture one."

"That's not the point," He waved his hand dismissively. "Send another ship; transfer me today."

"Well, what is the point?" she asked. "Besides, it's too late," she answered, flatly. "Aquarius is one of the nearest vessels, and this has been in the works for many weeks. You think we can simply reassign capital ships because of a single agent's whims and mock moral outrage?"

"I think that 'we' can do almost anything we like. I can be on the other side of the Federation with a new name and rank inside of a week if need be. Which makes me think this is personal. You'd be a natural prime suspect but you really would enjoy this more. So I have to wonder who's making you make me work with my old crew still." He sat down, chuckling to himself in what was probably the only genuine laugh he'd uttered so far. "They're playing you too aren't they? Y'know you don't look good if I screw this one up and you might be the most insufferable bitch in the galaxy but your first priority is always to the mission. So I have to circle back to who's making you fly every red flag in my psych profile?"

She glowered at him on the inside, though her face was as neutral as ever. She was thoughtful for a long moment, then shrugged. "Perhaps you sell yourself short. Or perhaps somebody in our psychological team wants you to overcome those... 'red flags.' " Fiona shook her head, just slightly, as if getting rid of a pesky idea. "Besides, I don't ask questions, and I certainly don't set up our little meetings so that I have to fight you down to the point of threats on purpose. I have my orders. You have yours. This will all go much, much easier for everyone, including your ship," she added, "if you cooperate. Otherwise, do you think any other agent we might assign would be quite so careful with the crew? I know I wouldn't be if they assigned me in your place," Fiona observed, blandly. "And I consider myself rather good at minimizing Starfleet casualties."

"Now now Fiona, you wouldn't want me thinking I'm more indispensable than you are." He pursed his lips, considering for a good long moment while he looked to the destroyed padd on the floor. "Send a new one to my quarters. Remind your superiors that I have a deal. And just...try to do something, anything about being the absolute worst." Atton let out a defeated sigh, making his way to the doors.

"Good luck, Commander." There was just, just a hint of amusement he could read off of her. "Better luck to you than I, at any rate. "I can't imagine it, but there's always the chance that your death would make my work just a little duller. Such virulent hate is very hard to replace."

Atton continued to walk out the quarters, only acknowledging her with a crude and archaic Earth gesture with his middle finger as he exited.