The face on the screen is that of a human woman, very pale, very gaunt, with dark spiky hair, a patch over one eye, and the remains of Borg implants around her temple and her mouth. "Um, yeah," says Admiral Veronika Grau. "Dan Fallon, yeah, as it happens, I do know him."
I don't know if that's good or bad. I'm pretty sure I'm presuming on too slight an acquaintance here, in any case. "Any insights you can give me into his way of thinking, Admiral -"
"Oh, call me Ronnie, everyone does. Yeah. What's he done now, exactly?"
I sigh quietly to myself. I'm taking this call in my ready room, with no one around to see me - and I don't know if I'm being politely discreet, or... furtive. "Firing on Voth escape pods. He says it was due to a sensor error."
Ronnie Grau's thin-lipped mouth twists into an unappealing shape. "Right, yeah. That, well, kind of sounds like Dan Fallon, actually. What's he up to? Um, besides killing Voth, that is."
"He's in command of the USS Tempest. Pathfinder-class vessel attached to Joint Command's survey teams." I take a deep breath. "Apparently, he was previously assigned to Fifth Tactical Wing under Admiral Kuliv, but he was detached on a roving commission when Kuliv reorganized his tactical structure -"
"Ah. Right. That was kind of the same deal he had when I met him," says Ronnie. "We'd both been, um, detached from our command frameworks at the time. Me, I'd sort of been getting in Admiral Sarlik's hair a bit, and he thought it logical that I should go off and exercise my tactical initiative elsewhere. Preferably a long way elsewhere, if you get my drift. This was a few months after the Vega Colony dust-up, I'd only just got my Borg mind control unscrewed and my backside planted in a command chair again. Dan had been rotated out of Third Fleet's active wings in more or less the same way. We were both operating in Romulan space - officially, I was under his command, actually, though he never really pushed it."
"So... you and he were doing what, exactly?"
"Patrols, mostly. Discouraging the Tal Shiar and the various warlords from interfering with Federation shipping in and around Psi Velorum. Independent patrols. Dan didn't much care for my methods, and I didn't much care for his." There is a thoughtful look in her one brown eye.
"What did you disagree over?"
"Look," says Ronnie, "I take a lot of chances. I mean, I know that. Most of the time, they pan out, because I've been around the block a few times and I know what I'm doing. But there's no denying it, I'm a bit of a chancer. I mean, you've seen me in action, you know what I'm like."
At Andoria, during the Hegemony attack - where her desperate chances paid off, to be fair. "Commodore Fallon didn't like that?"
"I think you have to be a bit crazy, one way or another, to be a good tactical officer," says Ronnie. "OK, it's possible I'm overdoing it a tad, but you know what I mean. Advancing bravely into a hail of enemy fire, cannon to the left of them, cannon to the right of them, it's not something that sensible people do. But I like to think I'm the right kind of crazy. I take risks, but they're calculated ones, not stupid ones. Now, Dan -" She falls silent.
"I don't understand," I say. "Are you saying Commodore Fallon does take stupid risks?"
"No," says Ronnie. "No, he thinks I do. Because Dan Fallon is not a risk-taker. Dan Fallon never gets in a fight - if he can help it - without a cast-iron guarantee that he'll win it. Dan likes to have an edge. And he's not, um, all that particular about how he gets one. Or uses one. Ever heard of Coventry?"
I frown. "I think I've heard of a ship by that name...."
"Oh, right, yeah, I mean no. It's a place. Town on Earth. Back in the twentieth century, it got bombed to blazes in one of the wars... thing is, the government, of the country it was in, they knew it was going to get bombed. They'd broken the enemies' comms encryption, you see. But if they took steps to defend the town, the enemy would know their comms weren't secure, and the government figured, well, they still needed that edge, for the rest of the war. So they let the bombers get through."
"It sounds like... a pragmatic decision. But not a very moral one."
Ronnie says nothing for a moment. Then she speaks, slowly, in serious tones. "There were a number of Rom warlords preying on systems near the Federation border. I managed to take out one of them, that got Admiral Gref's attention and he pulled me into Sixth Fleet. But Dan Fallon.... Another one of the warlords pulled a raid on a Reman mining settlement, and they were heading back for the Star Empire, fat and happy, when Dan bushwhacked 'em in a nebula out by 74 Cygni. Dan only had one heavy escort and a couple of frigates, so he wasn't able to make much of a dent in the Rom battle group - but he trashed the freighters in their convoy, so the entire proceeds of the raid went bang." She draws in a breath. "Thing is, the Romulan, T'Seridus, he was relying on that raid, he urgently needed some refined pergium to get his singularity core production back online. Without it, well, the Tal Shiar rolled into his home system a couple of months later and pacified it. Thoroughly. T'Seridus himself wound up as peaceful as you can get. Resting in it, you might say."
"And you think -"
"I don't know for sure. But Dan knew exactly when and where and why to hit T'Seridus. He had to have known in advance what the raid was about, and everything that hinged on it. So he lined up all the dominoes and they fell just the way he wanted them to, and one more petty Rom dictator got it in the neck, and everyone slept a little easier in their beds. Except for eleven hundred Reman miners who had to learn how to breathe vacuum, but I guess those are the breaks. Just like Coventry." Her gaunt face is very grim.
I think about it. "Do you think... ultimately... it might have saved more lives than it cost?"
"I don't know. I do know those Remans didn't get an option. We sign up to put our lives on the line. Civilians don't. Maybe this was the cheapest way to stop T'Seridus, maybe it wasn't, I don't know, maybe nobody will ever know. But Dan Fallon isn't losing any sleep worrying about it, I can tell you that much. Dan is all about pragmatic decisions."
---
The operations centre in Joint Command is always a place of chaos. Dozens of people, in Starfleet uniforms and KDF ones and Republic ones, jostling and talking in excited groups, holograms glowing in the air, showing maps and diagrams and Omega molecules... I remember the days when Omega was a deadly secret, restricted information known only to ship commanders and above. Now, it's out in the open, because now everyone has to know what they're dealing with, and what the risks are.
The hulking shape of a decommissioned Voth battlemech dominates one curving wall. And the tall lancet windows are all open, letting in the eternal sunshine and the thin cold air of the sphere. It's necessary, because with all the people in here, the air would be stifling, otherwise.
By the side of one of those windows, I catch a glimpse of red hair, and I aim for that, weaving around a group of Romulan scientists, a scarred Klingon commander, and a lost-looking Cardassian.
T'Pia is standing by the window, looking out at the impossible landscape of the sphere. She turns to face me as I stand to attention and salute.
"Such formalities are no longer necessary," she says. "You are technically at the same rank grade as me, now."
"You've still got time in grade, sir." Besides, T'Pia was my commander for a long time... it would feel wrong, not to salute her.
She nods, and returns my salute. With her habitual stiff carriage, she doesn't need to come to attention. "It is agreeable to see you again," she says. For a Vulcan, that's pretty warm, really. "I am glad to have your assistance in this mission." She looks around. "I suggest we find a quieter location to go over the mission parameters."
"Yes, sir. But before we do -" I take a deep breath. "There's another matter I'd like your advice on."
She quirks one eyebrow at me. But I want her opinion - it's liable to be very different from Ronnie Grau's, but I've learned to trust T'Pia's objectivity. She is intelligent and Kolinahr-trained and almost frighteningly Vulcan, and if there's a logical perspective to be had, I'll get it from her.
Quietly, I give her the same brief description I gave Ronnie. She purses her lips a little, and then leads me to a corner of Joint Command's mess hall. There's a table free, somehow; we take it. "You have further details?" she asks.
I hold up a PADD. She takes it from me. "Very well. I will assimilate this information. Perhaps you could bring me a mineral water while I do, and obtain some refreshment for yourself." She taps at the PADD's interface, her green eyes intent. I lope away to the replicator.
By the time I return, carrying a glass of mineral water and a hot raktajino, T'Pia has already scanned the PADD and is sitting with her hands steepled in front of her, her elbows resting on the table. "Disquieting," she comments, as I take my seat.
"Yes, sir."
"It would be difficult to prove deliberate wrongdoing without an extensive investigation of the Tempest's automated log recordings. The Judge Advocate General's office would wish to be sure of its grounds before proceeding with any such investigation."
"I know, sir. But -"
"The situation concerns you. I understand this. I have myself seen Rear Admiral Fallon in action. He operates with considerable skill, and achieves his tactical objectives with precision. I might characterize it, though, as ruthless precision." She sips the mineral water. Her gestures... her movements... they are always precise. But I have never seen T'Pia be ruthless.
"So... is there anything we can do?" I ask.
"I believe there is." T'Pia takes another sip of water. "You believe Rear Admiral Fallon to be acting improperly, and I can understand your reasoning in that respect. Other opinions may differ, though. His opinions, as relayed by you, are consistent with certain traditional military doctrines - more prevalent in the KDF, though, than in Starfleet."
"Even the Klingons wouldn't fire on escape pods," I grumble.
"Quite. The logical course of action, it seems to me, is to obtain more information. If necessary, we can then present that information to the JAG's office. The logical method of obtaining information would be to observe Rear Admiral Fallon's behaviour in more detail."
"How could we manage that? He's operating more or less independently, on detached duty -"
"That need not necessarily continue to be the case. After the last Voth incursion, Subcommander Kaol has suggested that I obtain additional support for this upcoming mission." Is that a hint of a smile on her lips? Surely not. "I will, therefore, accept that suggestion. The USS Tempest, now on detached duty under Joint Command's overall authority, will serve the purpose admirably. At the very least, we will know exactly what Rear Admiral Fallon is doing."
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