Jellico nodded. "I'm glad to see we're on the same wavelength, Commander. With your permission, then, I will put forward your application with my strongest recommendation."
She considered it for a long moment. "You do realize that he'll never go for it."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. If I need to narrow the options available to him, I can pull a few strings in that department. I wouldn't do that immediately, of course; only if he proves 'reluctant.'"
"Ah. Well." She folded her arms and looked squarely at Jellico. "There's two other things that I think I should clarify, Admiral. The first is, reverse psychology is a fairly obvious tactic, and I wish you had not had to resort to it."
"Mmm-hmm," he said noncommittally. "And the second . . . ?"
"The second is," and she leaned forward with her knuckles on the desk, "if I should get the assignment, understand: My loyalty as first officer will be to my captain. It doesn't matter if we were once lovers. It doesn't matter if I think he's pigheaded, or stubborn, or a first-rate pain in the ass. If I sign on, I sign on for the entire package. I accept it and I deal with it. And if you think that I'm going to weasel my way on board and then turn around and be some sort of snitch, spy, quisling, rat, or in some other way, shape, or form search out means by which I can undercut or disenfranchise my superior officer, all for the purpose of advancement, then you, Admiral, with all due respect, can go screw yourself." And with that she turned on her heel and walked out the door.
Jellico sat there, staring at the space which she'd just vacated with undisguised amazement. And then, to no one in particular, he said, "Just once I'd like it if someone coupled the phrase 'with all due respect' with some sort of sentiment that was genuinely respectful."
SI CWAN
II.
SOLETA HAD BEEN CAUGHTcompletely flat-footed . . . a condition that was, to her, extremely annoying.
She was standing in her apartment in San Francisco. Her marvelous view of Starfleet Academy out the window had always provided a curious comfort for the Vulcan woman. Now it seemed to serve only as a sort of ironic counterpoint; out there would be possible rescue for her current odd situation, but it might as well have been on Venus.
On her computer screen, the words "Don't Move" . . . a message which had seemed very odd indeed when she first read it . . . still glowed at her in dark letters. "What kind of message is that?" she had demanded of the empty room.
That was when she had learned that the room was, in fact, anything but empty. From directly behind her, she'd felt the gentle but disturbing firm prodding of a weapon, and coldly spoken words: "It is the kind of message," a soft but threatening voice said, "that you should pay attention to, if you know what is best for you. Now . . . you shall do exactly what I say . . . and may God help you if you do not, because no one else will be able to help you. That, I can assure you."
Soleta was too well trained to let her astonishment show in either her voice or her demeanor. She acted, in fact, as if the identity of her unknown visitor were of no interest to her at all. "I am impressed," she said. "My hearing has always been rather keen. That you were able to gain access to this apartment and hide in here without my detecting you is, as noted, impressive. That you were able to then get close enough to me to threaten me with a weapon, again without my hearing your movement, is nothing short of amazing," and then, as an afterthought, she added, "which would have more impact, of course, were I capable of being amazed."
"You are unafraid," said the voice. "You have not changed."
The voice struck a cord in Soleta's memory. She frowned almost imperceptibly. "We have met, have we not."
"Think of an opulent corridor," the voice told her, almost seeming to relish prolonging the moment. "Think of an escape attempt gone awry . . ."
"On Thallon," she said slowly.
"Correct."
"Si Cwan."
As if saying the name somehow released her from the threat of impending violence, Soleta turned to face him. Towering over her was indeed the formidable Lord Si Cwan, late of the Thallonian Empire. He had taken two steps back, clearly a respectful distance. "Stay where you are," he said firmly. "I am not interested in leaving myself vulnerable to the assorted Vulcan tricks at your disposal."
"Nor am I interested in utilizing them," replied Soleta, eyeing him with undisguised curiosity. "I still do not understand how I was unable to hear you come up behind me."
He shrugged as if it were an insignificant matter. "It is a technique I once learned. It is convenient for one who is as conspicuous as I to be able to blend in when such is required. I had a good teacher."
"I should say so." She gestured to a nearby chair. "Would you care to sit?"
Waving the barrel of his weapon slightly, he indicated another chair a few feet away. "After you," he said with exaggerated cordiality.
She nodded slightly and sat. A moment later he followed suit.
"The last time I saw you," said Si Cwan as casually as if they'd run into each other at a local pub, "you and Ambassador Spock were endeavoring to escape from Thallon. You'd staged a rather impressive breakout from your cell and were hoping to flee the palace when we happened to run into each other. Do you recall what happened?"
"Of course," she said. "You allowed the ambassador and myself to depart . . . after returning this to me," and she tapped the IDIC pin she wore in her hair.
He nodded. "All this time and you still wear it. It is comforting to know that some things in this everevolving universe remain unchanging."
"What happened after our escape?"
"Guards were disciplined. Palace security was improved. Drills were held."
"Nothing more . . . severe?"
"If what you are asking is if anyone was executed over their inability to keep you prisoner, no," Si Cwan assured her. "After all, the fundamental truth is that I allowed you to escape. Had I not done so, you would not have done so. It was a private decision I made, and one that I elected to keep private even as the investigation of your breakout was held."
"Why? You were a nobleman. Certainly you weren't afraid of retribution."
"Even noblemen have no desire to appear weak to their subordinates. It increases the difficulty of maintaining control."
"And yet," Soleta said evenly, "you lost control anyway. Your family lost control of the Thallonian Empire."
"A valid point," he admitted. "And, in fact, the reason that I am here." He seemed to regard her with intense interest for a moment, and then abruptly he holstered his blaster and placed his hands in his lap. The meaning of the gesture was unmistakable: It was time to put threats and attempts at intimidation aside. To be candid with, and trusting of, one another, if such a thing was possible.
"There are other things in this ever-evolving universe that should also remain unchanging, I should think," Si Cwan told her. "One of those is gratitude. Gratitude and appreciation for services provided, particularly when those services result in prolonging one's life."
"I would assume you are referring to the fact that I am indebted to you for having allowed me to escape Thallon."