Orphan

[Cleo Mavendorf]

Commodore Cleopatra Mavendorf sighed as she set her PADD down on her desk. She leaned back in her chair and ran a hand through her dark hair...a glance around her ready room did nothing to ease her mind. She was still alone, still in command of the USS Leyte Gulf, still holding her emotions under an iron grip...and still frightened of just how far she had come in her life.

Cleopatra Mavendorf was not the name she had been born with...it was the name she had taken upon her acceptance into Starfleet academy (And Grandfather would be spinning in his grave if he had one over THAT) she thought to herself. Starfleet had not wanted general knowledge of who she really was and where she came from to get out...her people had been responsible for some very high profile atrocities.

They paid the price though...the few left after Grandfather's death had been rounded up and relocated to a new planet...under guard and careful watch. She had been an infant at the time...she grew up...attended school and made grades good enough to apply to the academy...her application was accepted...with a condition attached...she agreed to the new identity...even though she didn't feel it was fair...but her desire to be among the stars overruled her sense of outrage.

She had excelled in the academy...top of her class in both tactics and warp theory. Her senior year she had been approached by a Captain who offered her something...unusual. After listening to his offer she accepted and became a Section 31 Operative...she frowned as the bitter taste of anger at how foolish she had been back then.

It took years for her to find out that they had been using her...and spying on her. When she finally discovered the truth and severed her ties to them she had known what would happen next...and she was ready. Three assassins died at her hands before Section 31 decided her death was more likely at the hands of the Borg than theirs.

She got up and moved to the replicator and ordered a cup of coffee, cream two sugars, and moved back to her desk, sipping the hot drink as she sat down, her thoughts going to the years she had posed as an Orion to infiltrate the KDF...she half smiled...being an Orion had been..interesting. She knew her cover had never been blown and her Orion identity was still useful from time to time.

She had been sure her career would go nowhere fast after her break from Section 31...but the return of the Borg had proved her wrong. Starfleet needed good captains...ones who were not afraid to take the fight to the Borg. Mavendorf had done so...many times...she had paid a price...but she had survived...as had most of her crew...

Ch'Bargth had not, however. Her Klingon First Officer had died after he had been infected. Cleo had burned him down herself with the old type 2 phaser she routinely carried. She knew people were brought back from the Borg Collective on a fairly regular basis now...her current First Officer Three...Jean Luc Picard, Seven of Nine and countless others...but Ch'Bargth had told her once that the dishonor of being assimilated was a stigma he had no desire to live with...so she had honored her lover's wish.

It had also put to rest any concerns the high command had about her personal life interfering with her judgement or ability to command. It had also raised many questions about what kind of human being she really was...how she could so easily and coldly execute the man she had been intimate with for almost 2 years disturbed many...if only they knew...but she had learned to never let anyone see weakness...and so she was Cold, Bold Mavendorf...the 7th Fleet Ice Queen.

She had transferred to the 7th Fleet after the incident. Admiral Van Wormer had asked for her by name. One of the few times she had been surprised...he had summoned her to his office while the Leyte Gulf was being refitted and he told her what he wanted from her and why. After a brief hesitation she agreed...and 7th Fleet gained a new head of Klingon Affairs...in addition to the unexpected promotion she also retained command of the Leyte Gulf...she was not a desk warrior...she was at her heart a ship captain.

The door chimed and she looked up "Enter."

Three of Seven, her First Officer, a former Borg she had helped free from the Collective entered and moved to stand exactly three paces in front of the dest "Sir, we have received a fleet-wide distress call...the Borg have apparently began a series of attacks all across the quadrant."

Mavendorf steepled her fingers and leaned back in her chair, looking at Three above her fingers "Plot a course to the closest incursion...maximum warp Number One."

"Aye Sir." Three replied.

"And Three?"

"Sir?"

"Make sure the new Haugh 'Peng torpedoes are loaded in the aft launchers....I want to see just how effective they are compared to our Quantums."

"As ordered Sir." Three replied without a trace of emotion on her pale but attractive face. She about faced and exited the ready room and Mavendorf picked her cup of coffee back up and sipped at it. Things were happening...and she had a feeling it would be a while before she could indulge herself like this again.

[Cleo Mavendorf]

That concludes this brief back story on Cleo, hope you all liked it and now have a better idea of what makes her tick.