Desai’s eyes narrowed. “Did you say it nicely, or how you just said it to me?”
“That was me saying it nicely,” Reyes replied.
As if in response to his question, the door to his office chose that moment to slide shut, its pneumatic hiss causing both Reyes and Desai to look in its direction. Reyes was sure his befuddled expression matched the one clouding the JAG officer’s features.
“Does that happen a lot?” she asked.
“It’s moody,” Reyes said. Feeling his patience with the larger topic beginning to ebb, he leaned back in his chair. “They came to you because they didn’t think I was nice?”
Shaking her head, Desai said, “They came to my office because they feel you didn’t listen to them or take their concerns seriously.”
“Captain, I did listen to them,” Reyes countered, his interest in continuing this conversation now at an end. “I then balanced their concerns against this station’s operational needs, and made a decision. They came to you because they didn’t get what they wanted.” Before Desai could respond to that, he tapped a finger on his desk and indicated the computer terminal positioned to his left. “All of this is in my report, so why are we here?”
Desai’s expression hardened. “Sir, one of my jobs is to address grievances put forth by any member of the station’s complement, Starfleet or civilian. I’m just following up on the report they filed and making certain their complaints are given their due diligence. You’ll find I can be quite thorough in that regard.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Captain,” Reyes said. “You wouldn’t be doing your job if you did anything less. I can respect that, even if you and I disagree on a particular point, which I imagine we’ll do from time to time. I’m funny, that way.”
Pausing a moment, Desai regarded him in silence, as though weighing the virtue of saying whatever else might be on her mind.
Sensing her hesitation, Reyes said, “Say what you want to say, Captain. I promise I won’t bark.”
“Thank you, sir,” Desai replied. “Are you always this way? This direct, I mean.”
Reyes nodded. “I am when I’m in charge, which I am a lot these days.” Then, feeling the need to lighten the mood, he smiled. “But, I’m really quite pleasant when everybody just does what I want them to do.”
Despite her composed demeanor, Desai released a small laugh before shaking her head. “Commodore, it’s not my intent to tell you how to run this station, at least so long as all applicable laws and regulations are being followed, of course. But as Starfleet’s senior representative to what looks to be a large number of civilian residents and visitors, I might suggest exercising a bit more diplomacy when dealing with such matters.”
Shrugging again, Reyes replied, “That’s why I have you, Captain: to take care of these things for me. You get to be polite, so I don’t have to.” Though he kept his tone light, he forced himself not to smile again. For reasons he could not quite understand— or, more likely, was unwilling to admit even to himself—he was enjoying the banter with Desai. The captain obviously took her job seriously, and he knew from her service record that she was not above mixing it up with superior officers if she thought she had the facts, truth, and justice on her side and with no apparent regard for any potential consequences. Reyes could definitely respect such an attitude.
This could be fun,he decided.
As though weighing the ramifications of what her new duty assignment would mean for her, Desai sighed. “It’s going to be a long tour, isn’t it, sir?”
“Not at all, Captain,” the commodore replied. “Any tour’s what you make of it.” Tapping his desk again, he asked, “So, are we done here?”
“I suppose we are,” Desai said, rising from her chair. “We’re going to be having a lot of conversations like this, aren’t we?”
Reyes nodded. “I expect they’ll be the highlight of my day.” Though he intended the remark to be sarcastic, he could not deny that there was more than a grain of truth behind the words.
Eyeing him with a quizzical expression, Desai finally said, “Thank you for your time, Commodore,” before moving toward the door.
The door did not open at her approach.
Desai turned to look back at Reyes, who still sat behind his desk. “Still moody?”
Damn you, Ballard.Reaching for his desktop intercom panel, Reyes thumbed the activation switch. “Reyes to Ballard.”
“Ballard here, sir,”replied the chief engineer.
“My office door won’t open, Lieutenant.”
“Sorry about that, sir,”Ballard replied. “It’s tied in with the problems we’re having with the internal sensors. I should have it working in half an hour or so, sir.”
Without bothering to reply to the report, Reyes severed the comm link and drew what he hoped was a calming breath before returning his attention to Desai. “Well, Captain, it looks like we’re stuck with each other for a little while longer.” Rising from his chair, he started moving toward the food slot at the rear of his office. “Can I get you some coffee?”
“Yes, thank you, sir,” the JAG lawyer replied as she made her way back to her seat.
Reyes input his request to the food slot’s control panel. “No sense wasting this opportunity to get to know each other a little better. So, I hear you’re from out of town.” He could not stifle the chuckle that escaped his lips when Desai rolled her eyes, shook her head, and laughed.
This might end up being a good day, after all.
3
Irritated that he had not considered this course of action any sooner, Ronald Hanagan crossed the cargo bay of the civilian merchant freighter Bacchus Plateauto a tool kit he had brought with him. It took him a moment to rummage through the kit’s contents until he found the item he sought, a P-38. Though the device normally was used to open magnetically sealed hatches as well as access panels on a starship, Hanagan figured the tool should serve his purposes quite nicely.
It’s either this, or a phaser.
With a grunt of satisfaction, Hanagan made his way back to the oversized cargo container sitting near one corner of the storage bay. It was the last item on the shipping manifest to be unloaded from the Bacchus Plateauand into the internal transport system, which would move the container’s contents down to one of the Starbase 47 cargo lockers currently assigned to Lauren Everett, his employer on the station. According to the manifest, the crate housed a plethora of merchandise and other supplies Everett would use to stock the store she soon would be opening in Stars Landing. Unlike its companions, this container was too large to transport on its own, so it had to be opened and its contents offloaded. Hanagan therefore had saved it for last.
Fool.
None of that mattered any longer, he decided. All he wanted now was to offload this bothersome container, which had of course further vexed him by being the only such container in the entire cargo shipment to have a malfunctioning access hatch. Several tries at forcing it open had failed, including one attempt in which Hanagan used a crowbar he had found on a nearby storage shelf. Why he had not remembered the P-38 before now was a mystery to him, but he did not care. Once he got the crate’s contents unloaded and moved to where they belonged, he would be free to go and enjoy a decent meal, some fine spirits, and— with any luck—the company of an enchanting female.
All in good time.
Placing the P-38 on the cargo container’s main access hatch, Hanagan pressed the control on the unit’s embedded keypad, which instructed the device to send out a small pulse wave to break the magnetic seal currently keeping the hatch locked in place. It took only a moment before Hanagan heard a satisfying hiss emitted from the seal, at which time the P-38’s status indicator shifted from red to green. He reached for the hatch’s recessed handle and pulled, and the door slid aside with little effort to reveal darkness inside, along with the shadowy forms of a number of smaller containers of varying shapes and sizes.