Were we better off not knowing?Moyer dismissed the question. As any Vulcan might tell her, it would be illogical to waste time dwelling on what might have been. Better to direct that energy elsewhere. Yes, but not without coffee.
“Time to get back to it,” she said, turning once more in the direction of the galley as Pimental made his way back to his desk. She had taken only a few steps before she heard the JAG office’s main doors opening. Moyer was surprised to see a stocky, barrel-chested Tellarite, dressed in a gold Starfleet tunic and carrying a standard-issue briefcase, enter the room. His tunic sported captain’s stripes as well as the chest insignia of Starfleet Headquarters, and while he appeared shorter than Moyer herself, there was no mistaking the air of authority surrounding him.
Tell me this isn’t who I think it is.
“Good evening, Captain,” she said, depositing her coffee mug on the desk closest to her as she crossed the bullpen to greet the new arrival. “Welcome to Starbase 47’s JAG offices. I’m Lieutenant Holly Moyer, one of the junior legal officers assigned here. How may I help you?” As she drew closer and got a better look at the Tellarite’s face in the room’s subdued lighting, Moyer realized that she had indeed recognized and correctly identified him.
Uh-oh.
“Good evening, Lieutenant,” the Tellarite replied, his words clipped and formal. “I am Captain Mosh zelev Sereb. I have been dispatched to this godforsaken boil on the posterior of space by order of Starfleet Command, and I am here to see Captain Desai. I was told she would be here.” Making a show of subjecting the entire room to a scathing visual inspection, Sereb returned his gaze to Moyer and grunted in derision. “Well, where is she?”
Swallowing the lump trying to fight its way into her throat, Moyer replied, “She’s in her office, sir.” Indicating Desai’s office door with a nod of her head, she added, “I’ll get her right away.” She activated the intercom on the nearest switch and connected to Desai’s office, alerting the captain of her visitor. All the while, her imagination swam with the possibilities of why Sereb had been dispatched to Vanguard from Earth.
This cannot be good.
After a moment—which seemed to take an hour to pass—the doors to Desai’s office parted, and the captain emerged, Lieutenant Simpson following her. There was a determined set to her jaw as Desai crossed the room to stand before Sereb, folding her arms across her chest.
“I’m Captain Desai,” she said, her tone so low and reserved that her normally clipped London accent was all but absent. “How may I help you?”
Instead of responding immediately, the Tellarite reached into his briefcase and extracted a red computer data card, which he offered to Desai. “These are the Starfleet Judge Advocate General’s orders removing you from the prosecution of Commodore Reyes and assigning me in your stead.”
Accepting the data card, Desai nodded. “Well, that was expected.” She paused, examining the card as though attempting to divine its contents. “It would’ve been nice if JAG had made this decision before my staff and I spent the past month working twenty-hour days to prepare our case.”
Sereb’s stout nose wrinkled up and down, and he released a short grunt. “What is that human expression? The wheels of justice grind slowly, do they not?” Then, in a way that Moyer considered most out of character for a Tellarite, he actually seemed to take on a sympathetic air. “You should not consider this an impugning of your integrity or professionalism, Captain. No one is questioning your character or ability to prosecute this case. Starfleet simply believes it imperative to avoid any appearance of impropriety while adjudicating a trial of this magnitude.”
Sure took them long enough,Moyer mused. For JAG to send Sereb all the way from Earth, it meant that Starfleet itself and perhaps even the Federation Council were serious about seeing this to the end. There would be no cover-up, no attempt to mitigate or sidestep the issue. Diego Reyes would be facing one of the most formidable prosecutors in the Starfleet legal community. Mosh zelev Sereb’s reputation was well known; he had never lost a case, even on those rare occasions when he acted as defense counsel. His ethics were beyond reproach, and he coupled a brusque manner born of Tellarite stubbornness with an unrelenting approach to trial work. Reyes’s attorney, Commander Nathan Spires, would have his work cut out for him.
Desai’s features remained fixed and impassive, but Moyer could see in her eyes that the captain appeared to be having some difficulty accepting something she had to have seen as inevitable. Even with the long days spent in virtual seclusion as they worked to prepare their case, Moyer had been certain of this as well. Desai had revealed to Starfleet JAG her personal relationship with Commodore Reyes almost from the moment it had become clear that she would have to place him under arrest. To her credit, she had offered to recuse herself from the case, stating the obvious conflict of interest and the perception of bias from the public if she were to remain as prosecutor. Rather than accepting her offer, JAG had waffled, citing concerns about the station’s remote location coupled with the strain of making available sufficient officers of flag rank needed to sit on a court-martial board. Meanwhile, Desai and her people had turned to their work.
Her gaze once more locked with Sereb’s, Desai nodded. “My assistant will see to it that you’re provided with everything my staff and I have put together. Have you brought a staff or an assistant with you?”
“No,” Sereb replied, indicating the data card in Desai’s hand. “Also included in the orders are instructions allowing me to select from your office whomever or whatever I require to assist me.” Glancing over his shoulder, he added, “Lieutenant Moyer comes with high recommendations, and it would be imprudent to waste the effort she’s exerted in preparing for this case. Therefore, Captain, if you have no objections, I request that she assist me.”
It took a moment for that to sink in, and when it did, Moyer could not help the expression of shock that she knew appeared on her face. “Excuse me?” she asked. Then, realizing her slip, she immediately cleared her throat and reclaimed her bearing. “I’m sorry, Captain.” The idea of assisting Sereb was exciting and terrifying at the same time. Serving as the distinguished attorney’s aide would, of course, be quite an entry in her service record—but on this case? All of the discomfort she had been squelching, the unease as the reality of putting Commodore Reyes before a court-martial, came rushing back at her. Until this moment, she had been able to treat it as something abstract, possibly not coming to pass. Sereb’s presence reinforced that it was real, it would happen, and she would be one of the instruments that would decide the fate of a man she greatly respected.
I think I’m going to throw up.
“Very well,” Desai said, offering a curt nod. Turning her attention to Moyer, Simpson, and Pimental, she added, “See to it that Captain Sereb receives any assistance he requires.” Taking her leave of the Tellarite, she returned to her office, the doors closing behind her.
To Moyer, Sereb said, “We’ll begin at oh-seven-hundred hours tomorrow morning. Please see to it that I have an office at my disposal, and bring all of the case work prepared to date. I don’t know if it will be useful, but it will be a start. Good evening.”
As he turned to leave, his briefcase brushed against the nearby desk, catching Moyer’s coffee mug and sending it tumbling to the deck, where it clattered against the duranium plates, shattering into dozens of pieces of disjointed ceramic shrapnel.
Eyeing the mug’s remnants, Sereb released another snort. “Not the best place to put something like that, I suppose. Please offer my apologies to its owner.” He nodded once more to Moyer before turning and exiting the JAG offices, leaving Moyer to stare at her destroyed coffee mug.