crew of the Excalibur in on this?” “Has there been a mutiny?” “How are you going to stop him?” “Can he be stopped?”
And Jellico had fought back as much as he could. He reminded them of Calhoun’s lengthy and distinguished service to the Federation, and the numerous times—including as recently as a major Borg incursion—when he and his ship had been instrumental in saving countless lives.
But this had been promptly combated with incidents taken from Calhoun’s records that detailed his many instances of insubordination including, most damning, condemnations written by Jellico himself. The assumption from the Council, rather than accepting that subsequent events had caused Jellico to change his mind, was that Jellico was automatically moving to blindly defend one of his officers.
With condemnations, dictates, and warnings ringing in his ears, Jellico returned to his office only to find both Admiral Nechayev and Tusari Gyn waiting just outside it. Perfect, he thought.
“Ambassador. Admiral,” he said, nodding to each one in sequence. He didn’t even bother to ask them to follow him inside; he knew they would do so without being invited. He was, as it turned out, correct.
Jellico did not sit down behind his desk, however. Instead he turned to face the two of them and leaned against his desk casually. One of two things would happen as a consequence. Either they would both choose to sit, at which point Jellico would then be looking down at them, thus giving him a subtle advantage. Or else they would stop a short distance away and not sit. Since he was leaning while they would be just standing there, they would become increasingly uncomfortable the longer they remained that way.
They were minor points, but wars were fought and won or lost on minor points. The devil was in the details, and Jellico prided himself on being a cunning devil.
“So, Edward,” began Nechayev, perhaps thinking that invoking his first name would give the proceedings a more personal flavor. “It seems we have a bit of a situation here.”
Tusari Gyn looked at her as if just noticing she was in the room. “A bit of a situation? I believe—and I think that the Federation Council would bear me out—that that is a huge understatement. This entire business is a fiasco.”
“This entire business,” and Jellico made no attempt to keep his voice down, “was your damned idea, Ambassador.”
“Admiral, a little respect, please,” Nechayev said sharply.
“As little as possible, Admiral,” he shot back. “Again, this was the ambassador’s idea, not mine.”
“It was my idea to utilize Captain Calhoun to expedite a peace process,” said Tusari Gyn. “Something that would have benefited all concerned. It was never my idea to have his ship open fire on my world. Yet that disaster has unfolded, and yes, I bear responsibility for it, Admiral, because I was the one who inadvertently unleashed that madman upon New Thallon in the interest of a peace that now will never come. The blood of my people is on my hands, with my good intentions being responsible for spilling it. So now the collective voices of the dead and dying cry for justice, and I am here to ask: How do you intend to balance those scales?”
Jellico wanted to reach out and throttle him, but he didn’t think that would be the best first step in dealing with the problem in front of them.
Gyn, meanwhile, was still talking. “When I think of all that we were willing to forgive. His previous trespasses on New Thallon, and his willingness to provide sanctuary to the fugitive Robin Lefler. And this… this… is how he repays our generosity?”
“I am not at all convinced,” Jellico said, “that is what happened. I think there may well be more to all of this than anyone is ready to admit.”
“What more can there be? Our planet’s records are clear. The Excalibur was positively identified. There can be no mistake. And no one is denying that Mackenzie Calhoun is still the captain.”
“And since then,” Nechayev said worriedly, “the ship’s gone radio silent. All messages sent on Starfleet emergency channels are being ignored. The mere act of ignoring such communiqués is grounds for court-martial. You know that as well as I do, Admiral.”
Now it’s back to ‘Admiral.’ So much for taking the personal approach. It didn’t bother Jellico, however. Under the circumstances, the more formality there was, the better.
“If there is one thing I have learned in my time in Starfleet,” Jellico said, “it’s that what seems obvious… isn’t always.”