The Power Behind The Throne
Posted on Thu Jul 31st, 2025 @ 3:42pm by Rear Admiral Timothy Rice & Petty Officer 2nd Class Sofia Cipriani & Brigadier General Francis 'Judge' Sobel
Edited on on Tue Aug 5th, 2025 @ 7:51am
2,520 words; about a 13 minute read
Mission:
The Amalgamation Interrogation
Location: Wardroom 1 - Habitat Ring Deck 11 - Empok Nor
Timeline: MD002 1100 hrs
The corridors of Empok Nor always felt like they were watching you. All dark metal and sharp corners—no Federation softness here. Just bulkheads that remembered war.
Sofia paused just short of the wardroom doors, heart tapping faster than her footsteps. Admiral Rice and Brigadier General Sobel were waiting inside. And somehow, they wanted to talk to her. A twenty-year-old yeoman barely out of the Academy, whose usual stress involved misplaced duty rosters and interdepartmental squabbles over replicator time.
She smoothed her uniform jacket, resisting the urge to fidget. What could she possibly offer about the integration program? Colonel Tremble seemed competent enough, but she'd never exactly been in the loop. Maybe they wanted a lower-decks perspective—someone who’d seen the effects without being too close to the command decisions.
Or maybe they just wanted to see who’d squirm.
Sofia blew out a breath and squared her shoulders.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Smile. Speak clearly. Don’t ramble.”
Then she pressed the chime, and waited for the doors to open.
Sobel saw the display light up as between him and Rice. He touched a control and said, "Please come in Petty Officer."
Sofia stepped into the wardroom as the door hissed open, her back straight and hands clasped behind her in quiet discipline. The room had that cold, functional Cardassian sharpness—bare edges and too much echo—but it was the weight of the two senior officers at the table that truly filled the space. She stopped just inside, offering a quick nod first to Admiral Rice, then to General Sobel. “Petty Officer Second Class Sofia Cipriani reporting as ordered, sir— I mean, sirs.” A faint flush crept into her cheeks, but she held her ground.
"Relax Petty Officer..." Tim began with a broad smile. "...You are not in trouble in any way. In fact the Commodore says that you are the power behind the throne, and the Pioneer would be adrift without you. I am a tad jealous as finding a great Yeoman is a little hard to do. That said, you are here for your unique perspective on the command dynamics aboard the USS Pioneer."
Sofia blinked, caught off-guard by the warmth in Admiral Rice’s voice, and more so by the compliment that followed. Her shoulders eased a fraction, though she still stood at respectful attention, eyes flicking briefly to the side before returning to him.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, the edges of a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “That’s… very kind. Though I think the Commodore might be exaggerating just a little.” A beat passed. “Still, I do see a lot from where I sit, and I’ll do my best to be honest... respectfully, of course.”
Francis pushed himself up in his chair, then leaned back and said, "We're fact finding. Specifically on how having a Marine XO is working out aboard the Pioneer. The trials and tribulations so to speak. The Admiralty and FMC Commandant are taking a look at it under a microscope. That's why we asked you in. You work directly with the Commodore routinely and likely see his interactions with the Colonel. Plus, I'd imagine you have a thumb on the NCO network aboard Pioneer so just as likely know how the crew is meshing under their team."
Sofia gave a small nod, her posture still respectful but easing ever so slightly. “Of course, sir. That makes sense.” She glanced between the two officers, not quite making full eye contact for more than a moment. “I wasn’t sure why I’d been asked in, to be honest—but if it’s perspective you’re after, I’ll do my best to be useful. I do see a fair bit, working where I do. And… people tend to speak more freely when they don’t think anyone’s listening too closely.” There was a brief, faint smile—just enough to hint at the quiet confidence behind her nerves.
"What if anything have you seen or heard about the crew's reactions to working so closely together? We expect there to be issues, but for it to mesh in due time." Rice decided to get the ball rolling as it were. These meetings while needed seemed to drag on for quite some time.
Sofia’s brows lifted slightly at the question, but she didn’t hesitate long. “I think most of the crew have adapted better than they expected to,” she said carefully. “There was definitely some hesitation in the beginning—mostly quiet things, like tone or assumptions about who answers to who. Marines have their own way of doing things, and so does Starfleet. It took time for both sides to realise that different doesn’t mean wrong.” She paused, glancing briefly between the admiral and general. “I’ve heard a few grumbles—usually in the mess or off-duty corridors—but nothing more than you'd expect during any structural change. If anything, I think people were more surprised it started working as well as it did. I don’t think we’re at perfect harmony, sir… but it’s far from dysfunction.”
Trying to martial his thoughts, Sobel stared at the cup of tea and then looked up, "Does Neil show any favoritism toward the marines? I'd imagine he'd be more likely to lean on members of the Cure than perhaps fleet personnel in some regards."
Sofia hesitated for half a second—not in uncertainty, but in respect for the weight of the question. “I haven’t seen anything I’d call favoritism, sir,” she said gently. “Colonel Tremble does have a certain rapport with the Cure—there’s a shorthand there, the kind that comes from shared experience. But I’ve also seen him rely on Fleet personnel when it counts, especially in areas outside his expertise.” She paused, her tone calm but honest. “He delegates with purpose. It might look like leaning toward Marines at times, but from what I’ve seen, it’s more about trust and clarity than preference.” A breath. “He respects the command structure, sir. He just interprets it through a Marine lens.”
Tim interjected for a moment as he looked toward Francis. "It is possible that the Colonel relies on The Cure much in the same way a ship Captain can give orders to their crew without uttering a word? It is just a synergy that comes with knowing how the others will react? One wonders if that synergy of sorts is developing between the Marine officers and Starfleet crew."
"So we've been hearing," Sobel said rather dryly. "Neil has been described as being an acquired taste. Which I suppose can be said for most field grade officers." After a few beats he asked, "Anyone have trouble with his ways? Find it hard taking orders from a Marine? Resent him in this posting?"
Sofia shifted her weight slightly, her brows lifting as she considered the question. “Mmm… I won’t lie, sir—at the beginning, a few people weren’t exactly sure what to make of him.” Her hands stayed clasped behind her back, but her voice had a little more ease now. “He’s… very much a Marine. All straight lines and sharp corners. No sugar-coating, no easing into things. Which, for some of us—especially those fresh out of the Academy—was a bit of a shock to the system.”
She offered a quick, self-aware smile, almost sheepish. “But I don’t think it was ever resentment. Just... friction. You know, like breaking in a new pair of boots. They’re stiff at first, might rub you the wrong way, but eventually they mould to the shape of the job.”
Her gaze flicked to the side for a moment, then returned. “If I’m honest, I think a lot of the crew expected him to throw his weight around more. But he hasn’t. He just does the work, and expects everyone else to do the same. There’s something... steady about that. Familiar, even. Maybe not warm, but dependable. And for people who live out here, that counts for a lot.”
A small pause, then she added, with the barest hint of an Italian shrug: “I mean, he’s not exactly a Sunday dinner kind of man, but I think people are starting to trust him just the same.”
Sobel pulled another flimsy from his pile and said, "There is something there. Neil's been busier than a long tailed cat in a room full of rockers since getting this post. Bumping him to a Battalion CO spot to increase Pioneer's TO&E, bringing in more officers to lighten his load there was supposed to help loosen that strain." Glancing to Rice he said, "With the other conversations we're getting, despite his and Tyler's assurances, Neil might be getting some battle fatigue."
Sofia’s eyes widened slightly, and her posture straightened, a flicker of concern crossing her features. “Oh—I didn’t mean to suggest anything like that, sir. Honestly.” Her hands unknotted from behind her back and shifted awkwardly to her front. “If I gave the wrong impression, that’s on me.”
She glanced between the two officers, her voice softening but gaining quiet conviction. “The Colonel’s been working hard, yes, but not in a way that feels unstable. He’s always… present. Focused. He takes on a lot, but it’s because he wants to do it right. And Commodore Malbrooke—he’d never let that go too far. If he thought Neil was struggling, he’d step in. I truly believe that.”
There was a short pause, and then a more uncertain, softer note. “Maybe it just looks heavier from the outside than it feels from where we are. But I don’t think either of them would let the crew suffer for it. They care. A lot more than they let on.”
She bit her bottom lip slightly, then added in a lower voice, “I’m sorry if I said too much.”
Tim smiled, he felt for the young woman. It is rare that someone is called before one flag officer, let alone two, and asked to discuss their senior officers. So, he understood the trepidation that Cipriani felt. "You have not said too much. We asked for the truth and you answered. Do you have any questions that you would like to ask us?"
Sofia blinked, caught off guard by the question, and gave a small, polite smile that didn’t quite mask her nerves. “Oh… um, thank you, sir.” Her fingers fidgeted briefly before she caught herself and clasped her hands again. “It’s just… not every day someone like me gets asked their opinion by two flag officers. I just didn’t want to say the wrong thing.”
She hesitated a moment, then tilted her head slightly. “If I may… I suppose I’d ask what happens after all of this? I mean, with the programme.” Her brow furrowed slightly, thoughtful. “People are settling in. Not perfectly, but… better. And if the structure changes again, or if Colonel Tremble’s position shifts, I think that could shake things up more than it might seem on paper. So I guess I’m just wondering if the crew’s perspective plays a part in what happens next… or if this is more a courtesy than a consultation.”
She glanced up, then added softly, “Either way, I appreciate being asked.”
Glancing at his counterpart, Sobel smiled at Sofia and said, "Honestly. Nothing in the short term. And nothing if we have anything to say about it, I think. Traditional tensions aside, things are working aboard Pioneer." Then the Brigadier's smile got crooked and he said, "The Corp almost always never messes up an apple cart that seems to be functioning. Even if one of the wheels is a bit squarish."
Rice's baritone raspy voice came through as he guffawed. "The Fleet does have a habit of sticking square pegs in round holes." When his laughter died down he addressed Sofia's question. "The crew's opinion does make all the difference. The General and I sit behind desks, despite our want to not do so. You folks, and The Cure, you are the ones in the trenches as it were. You all are the only ones who can tell us how things are working."
Sofia offered a small, more relaxed smile, the weight of the conversation settling more lightly on her shoulders now. “I appreciate that, sirs. I think it’ll mean a lot to the Commodore too—to know the programme’s being looked at with care, not just numbers.”
She hesitated for a moment, fingers lightly fidgeting in her lap before stilling. “I don’t pretend to speak for everyone, but I do talk to a lot of people. And I’ll keep listening, like I always do. Sometimes you hear the shape of things before they make it into reports.”
A faint shrug, not careless, but thoughtful. “That’s all I can promise. And thank you again—for the conversation, and the trust.”
She didn’t move to rise, clearly waiting to be properly dismissed, but her expression had softened, steadier now—still young, still respectful, but quietly resolute.
"We're holding these meetings to get past reports," Francis told her. "Any concerns or rumbles you hear from the crew should of course continue to go to Tyler and Neil. If there's nothing else Petty Officer, I think you can go about your day."
"Yes, I am sure the Commodore is simply lost without you. Thank you for your time. You are dismissed." Tim said with a smile. There was something about this young lady, something that reminded him of a daughter. He could see why Tyler chose her to be his Yeoman.
Sofia stood, smoothing her uniform jacket with a quick, practiced motion. “Thank you, sirs,” she said, her voice steady now, touched with genuine warmth. “For the conversation… and for hearing me out.”
She offered a respectful nod to each officer in turn — first General Sobel, then Admiral Rice — her earlier nerves softened into something more settled.
“I know I wasn’t your first stop for insight,” she added with a small, self-aware smile, “but I’m glad I could help in some small way. The Commodore’s always trying to do right by the crew — it means a lot to see that goes both ways.”
With that, she turned neatly on her heel, posture straight as ever, and made her way to the door — a little more sure of herself than when she’d arrived.
A Joint Post By
Brigadier General Francis Sobel
Commanding Officer, 258th Starfleet Marine Expeditionary Brigade
Empok Nor
Rear Admiral Timothy Rice
Sector Commanding Officer, Trivas Sector
Empok Nor
Petty Officer Second Class Sofia Cipriani
Yeoman, USS Pioneer
RSS Feed