“Of course,” Khatami replied. She waited until the dejected captain was out of earshot before turning to Stano. “The Klingons are getting bolder,” she said as she studied the scene before her. Across the hangar deck, the Roanokepassengers were settling in. Several dozen had taken advantage of the tables set up to serve as a temporary mess facility, and others had chosen cots in the berthing area and fallen into relieved slumber, their ordeal finally behind them.
“That’s one way to put it,” replied the first officer. “Tempers are running hot lately, especially after that incident at Starbase 42.”
Khatami nodded. The recent attack on the installation orbiting the second planet in the Casmus system was the most egregious assault by Klingon forces on a Starfleet target to date. Klingon invaders, drawn to the system after reports of rich dilithium deposits being found on the third planet, had boarded the station and killed a large number of its crew. They eventually were defeated by a joint mission between the Starships Enterpriseand Constellation,but the cost in lives had been alarming.
“What I don’t understand,” Stano said, “is why they’re targeting civilian ships and then leaving them adrift. What’s the point of that?”
Khatami replied, “Maybe because a Starfleet ship responding to a distress call means they’re not somewhere else?” It was an alarming thought, especially considering what she knew of recent imperial ship movements. The Klingons were sending more vessels into the Taurus Reach all the time. Even with their resources stretched thin with defending their borders, the ships and personnel they had placed here still outnumbered those supplied by the Federation. “I think we need to alert Admiral Nogura about this. He’s going to want more ships.”
“I can’t say a few more Constitutionswould go unnoticed,” Stano said, “or unappreciated. Sooner or later, this kind of constant probing and outright daring is going to blow up into something more serious.”
Khatami released a sigh. “I know, but I imagine there’s a line even they won’t cross, at least not until war’s formally declared.”
The question needing an answer, she knew, was where that line was drawn.
32
“You know,” Reyes said, keeping his voice low as he looked about the courtroom, “I don’t think I’ve ever been in here before.”
Sitting to his right, attired, as he was, in dress uniform, Desai leaned close enough to speak almost directly into his ear. “You could’ve just taken a tour like everyone else. Now, would you please focus?”
Reyes offered a mild grunt, leaning back in his chair. He and Desai were at one of two tables positioned before the raised bench that dominated the front of the courtroom. Just below the bench were a single straight-backed chair and a small shelf with a computer interface, which Reyes knew would be used to record the proceedings and provide as needed a means of retrieving information relevant to the trial from the station’s library computer system. The four seats arrayed before him were empty, but in moments, their assigned occupants would enter the chamber and begin the process of deciding how Reyes was to spend the next several years of his life.
Without turning his head, Reyes looked to his right and out of the corner of his eye saw past Desai to the other table before the bench. Seated alone was Captain Sereb, also wearing a dress uniform. The Tellarite appeared to be concentrating on the data slate he had produced from his ever-present briefcase. Sereb had made no further attempts to talk to Desai or to Reyes himself after their aborted meeting in Reyes’s quarters three weeks earlier. Since then, according to Desai, at least, the attorney had been content to remain in his office, preparing and refining his prosecution strategy. Desai had carried on in similar fashion, interrupting her own work for meetings with Reyes as she polished the avenues of defense she would pursue.
Here’s hoping all that work was worth it.
Behind the tables reserved for counsel were rows of chairs for observers, all of which were unoccupied. Despite the fact that Tim Pennington’s explosive story for FNS had laid open several of Operation Vanguard’s closely held secrets, there still were many facets of Starbase 47’s true mission in the Taurus Reach that remained classified. For that reason, Admiral Moratino had ordered the court-martial to be carried out behind closed doors. Reyes had no problem with that, as he had no desire to be on display before his crew and any gallery of curious onlookers the trial might attract.
“Here we go,” Desai said after a moment, returning Reyes’s attention to the front of the room as a Starfleet lieutenant—a Vulcan female he did not recognize—entered the courtroom from a door to the left of the bench. Her back was ramrod straight as she marched across the room to the computer terminal and activated it. The rows of multicolored lights on the unit’s face began to flash in rhythmic patterns.
“Computer,” the Vulcan said, “commence recording.”
“Working,”an emotionless female voice replied from the terminal. “Recording activated.”
Turning her attention to the rest of the room, which, of course, consisted only of Reyes, Desai, and Sereb, the lieutenant said nothing for a moment, waiting until Reyes heard the sound of another door opening behind the Vulcan. This one granted access to the bench itself, and Reyes felt a twinge in his gut as Admiral Gillian Moratino and a trio of male officers filed into the room.
“All rise,” the Vulcan said, her voice neutral yet firm. Behind her, the officers moved to stand before the bench’s four seats. All were human, all ranked commodore or higher. The board’s other three members were men, none of whom Reyes recognized. One of the two admirals was an older man, with stark white hair and pale, wrinkled features, while the other was much younger and of Latino heritage. The panel’s lone commodore was a weathered Asian man, who peered at Reyes over a pair of anachronistic rimless eyeglasses.
“All persons having business with this general court-martial,” the lieutenant continued, “stand forward, and you shall be heard. The Honorable Gillian Kei Moratino presiding.”
Despite the weeks of confinement, along with the long days and nights spent in conference with Desai, the idea of facing an actual court-martial had seemed somehow surreal to Reyes. Only now, as Admiral Moratino reached for the wooden striker resting on the bench and used it to tap the ancient ship’s bell before her, did it finally hit home that this was really going to happen. He was about to be tried by a board of his peers and, if found guilty of the charges against him, likely be sentenced to prison for a considerable portion of whatever life remained to him.
Too late to cry about it now.
“This court is now in session,” Moratino said, directing her gaze to Desai and Sereb. “Commodore Reyes has provided an official statement, which has been read to the board members and entered into the official record. Does counsel wish to raise any objection?”
“No objection, your honor,” Sereb replied. Desai shook her head, repeating the Tellarite’s answer.
Moratino next turned to Reyes. “Commodore Reyes, the board for your trial currently consists of Admiral Franklin Komack, Commodore Jeong Hynu-Su, and Admiral Alejandro Perez. Do you object to the selection of any of these officers serving in this capacity?”
“No, Admiral,” Reyes said, staring straight ahead. Of the four officers making up his court-martial board, only Admiral Komack possessed any knowledge of Operation Vanguard prior to his selection for this trial. The admiral was not in the project’s chain of command and was therefore deemed capable of remaining impartial in this matter.