“Excuse me, Captain,” Spires said, rising from his seat. “I’m in the middle of a private meeting with my client.”
Instead of answering him, Desai turned back to Reyes. “I’ve come to offer my services as your defense counsel, Commodore.”
The blunt statement caught Reyes off guard. “Are you serious?”
“I beg your pardon?” Spires asked, and Reyes watched as the commander’s mouth literally fell open. “Am I being relieved?”
Shaking her head, Desai answered, “Not at all. However, the accused doeshave the right to decide who’ll be handling his defense at trial.” Looking once more to Reyes, she asked, “Commodore?”
Still unsure what to think or believe in the face of his lover marching into the room and apparently taking charge of the situation, Reyes did not offer an immediate reply. Instead, he closed his eyes and shook his head, as though doing so would erase what had to be a hallucination. When he opened his eyes and saw Desai still standing before him, he frowned in lingering disbelief.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “Rana, the scuttlebutt even works its way down here sooner or later. You’ve been spending the past month setting up your case against me. I know you’re only doing your duty, but are you telling me you’re ready to shift gears just like that?”
Desai actually rolled her eyes. “You know I love you, Diego, but you can be such a moron sometimes. I wasn’t preparing a case against you. I’ve spent all of this time figuring out everything they might throw at you so that I can defendyou.”
Scowling, Reyes said, “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Under normal circumstances,” Desai replied, “as the senior JAG officer on the station, I’d be tapped to act as prosecuting attorney during a court-martial, but there was no way Starfleet was going to let me go to trial against you. It was only a matter of time before I was replaced, but it’s not my fault they took their time relieving me.” She shrugged. “So, I used my staff to help fortify a prosecutor’s case against you, then spent my nights countering everything we thought up during the day.”
“And just what in the name of hell do you think I’vebeen doing these past weeks?” Spires asked, making no attempt to hide his umbrage. There was no mistaking the commander’s wounded pride, and Reyes decided he could not blame the man. No one liked to be thought of as dispensable or replaceable. In Spires’s case, though he and Reyes had gotten off to a rocky start, the young lawyer had expended great time and effort crafting a defense for the commodore, so it was only natural that he would feel resentful and defensive at the idea of being cast aside.
Returning her gaze to Spires, Desai replied, “No disrespect toward you, Commander, but I honestly believe that I’m the person best qualified to represent Commodore Reyes at trial. I possess a greater knowledge of the classified aspects of Operation Vanguard than you do, to say nothing of my familiarity with those members of the station’s crew who know of the project.”
His expression clouded with bitterness, Spires said, “I suppose your personal relationship with the commodore would be of some help as well.”
Desai countered, “Yes, Commander, that will also be useful.” To Reyes, she said, “But there’s something else. He doesn’t think you can win. Maybe you can’t, but I’mnot ready to admit that yet.” She indicated Spires with her thumb. “He already has.”
“I beg your pardon,” Spires said, his face reddening, and Reyes saw that it was taking every scrap of the man’s self-control to maintain his bearing. “Captain, with all due respect, how dare you—”
“You haveadmitted that you can’t win,” Desai said, cutting him off. “If not aloud, then at least to yourself. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you’ve decided that his conviction is a foregone conclusion. You’ve been thinking about pulling your punches in that courtroom in order to avoid angering anyone who might have a say in your future.” She leaned closer, her gaze boring into him. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
With Spires rendered speechless, at least for the moment, Desai turned to Reyes, her eyes burning with determination. “What do you say, Commodore?”
Despite her passion and verve, as far as Reyes was concerned, there still was one very important point to consider. “Rana, there’s no telling what could happen to you or your career. Let’s face it, I’m damaged goods. I’m poison. You’re probably better off staying as far away from me as possible.”
“Don’t think I haven’t thought of that,” Desai replied, and Reyes saw the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Make no mistake. They’re going to crucify you. They’re going to draw and quarter you, serve you up on a platter, and leave your guts for the buzzards, but whatever happens, I want to be the one standing next to you.”
That was good enough for Reyes. Turning to Spires, he saw that the commander already knew what he was going to say.
“Nothing personal, Mr. Spires, but you’re fired.”
25
Jetanien had always prided himself on his ability to control a situation, be it the most informal gatherings or the most intense diplomatic negotiations. Successfully harnessing and channeling the energies and desires of others with whom one was engaged was a powerful asset to any politician, and the Chel had spent a significant portion of his professional life honing this and other vital skills. He was well aware that it was ego more than anything else that drove him in this manner, and with a few notable and still-painful exceptions, such talents had served him well throughout his career.
None of that, however, seemed enough to compel Admiral Heihachiro Nogura to set down his cup of green tea and get on with whatever reason he had called Jetanien and Commander Cooper to his office.
“Admiral,” he prompted for the second time.
As he had done after Jetanien’s first attempt, Nogura held up his free hand, not looking up from the data slate he studied while taking another sip of his tea.
With nothing else to do, Jetanien glanced at Cooper, offering a mild sigh before directing his attention to the data slate that gripped the admiral’s attention. The ambassador attempted to read the text visible on the face of the device, but Nogura had reduced the display’s brightness so that the data appeared as little more than a jumble. The data slate was one of several arrayed on Nogura’s desk—the desk that had once belonged to Diego Reyes. While he waited, the ambassador noted that Nogura had wasted little time removing those few personal items with which the commodore had decorated the office, apparently having opted not to replace them with any of his own. Was there some hidden meaning to the lack of individualization? Perhaps the admiral knew or at least believed his assignment to Starbase 47 to be temporary.
It would not be out of the question, Jetanien knew, given Nogura’s standing within the upper echelons of Starfleet Command. With the ever-tenuous relationship between the Federation and the Klingon Empire, Starfleet’s preparations for possible conflict continued at a rapid pace. Nogura was one of a handful of flag officers who almost certainly would be involved in planning any protracted offensive or defensive campaigns should war become a reality. Starfleet even had gone so far as to ensure that, for reasons of security, the admiral was separated from other such officers at all times. Jetanien was all but certain that Nogura’s presence here was part of that overall strategy, as much as someone of his experience and skill was needed to oversee Operation Vanguard.