[Jaeih’s
original version of this story, which won Third Prize in the 2003 Short Fiction
Contest, is available here.]
I like Jaeih,
especially because I can’t predict her so readily as I
do most people: I was certain her “temperamental writer” mode would emerge in
search of vengeance after I’d showed her my emendations to “TIoM.”
After all, she’d told me that the editorial changes to “Pax Libertas” improved it moderately, but not greatly... and that much of it was
superfluous. In response, I (somewhat huffily) told her that both I and Michael Gray considered the revised
version a much better one—that the
story had gone from quite good to truly excellent. She was unmoved.
You go, girl. Exercise your fundamental right to be wrong.
Of course, the fact that I’ve improved
this one even more….
The only thing I couldn’t figure out is what this story has to do
with either Julius Caesar or Shakespeare. Thus, Jaeih
conceded that her title, “The Ides of March,” wasn’t quite topical.
We settled on this instead:
“Rules of Engagement”
By Jaeih t’Radaik
and Joseph Manno
Stardate: 55201.7
Date:
Location: Neural star system
"Aft
phasers and photons, fire! New course, bearing 150 mark 45!"
Those last orders sent Captain Amber Seymour’s already labouring
starship into an agonizing, arching starboard turn. Lakota's weaponry lashed out at the burnished silver Roman starship
astern, while their opponent’s attempted riposte wasted itself on now empty
space.
The interminable seconds finally crawled past, and brought the
enemy vessel into their forward torpedo arc.
Over the noise of engine strain, she shouted, "Forward
phasers and photons, target Fidelis and fire!"
Another torrent of destruction lashed out at the smaller
ship—battering down its facing screens, blasting out great chunks of duranium hull. It was a satisfying moment—the kind which
had seldom occurred over the past hour.
"Damage!" Seymour demanded, grinning ferociously.
Golwat gave his report. "Their forward and dorsal shields are down…
and I’m reading breaches on the unprotected hull surfaces, though emergency
force fields are in place.” The Bolian almost sounded disappointed at that. “Their warp
drive is offline… impulse power at 47%... four phaser emitters and the photon
pod have been destroyed."
But the good news from ops didn’t outweigh the bad from Commander Rozhdestvenskiy, her X-O.
"Damn! We missed
their bridge by only seven meters!" he exclaimed. "As for our own
situation, aft shields are down to seven percent… re-routing power to compen–”
"Belay that, Commander. Maintain current shield strength in
all arcs. Divert ten percent structural integrity field power to the
phasers."
Geogoriy blinked, but hurriedly complied, hoping Golwat’s
power allocations weren’t too skewed by his sudden reconfiguration.
I hope your
ploy works, Captain. With all the manoeuvres you're having us pull, we can't
spare that SIF power!
"Fidelis
has swung away to protect her vulnerable sections," her tactical officer
stated. "Insidiator
has reengaged and is manoeuvring for position on our weakened aft shield. There
is no indication that the Roman command ship is rejoining the battle. She does
not register on our sensors."
Amber nodded, appreciating that Vulcan calm—especially now.
"Thank you, Mr. Saldar." She returned her
attention to the tactical display on the main view screen. Her ship's previous
volleys had dangerously weakened Insidiator's shields, but this tag-team effort had allowed
the shaken adversary time to recover her defences. Despite their quaint
cleverness, though, her starship was more than a match for two elderly Miranda-class escorts despite their
superior mobility—as Lakota had just
demonstrated to Fidelis.
Seymour snapped, "Ensign McAllister, don't let the Insidiator get
away this time. New course, bearing 200 mark 345... and look sharp.
“Saldar… all weapons that bear, target
the Insidiator only… and don't stop until she's scrap metal!”
"Aye, Captain," the Vulcan responded, still
matter-of-fact in the face of his captain’s rather bloodthirsty command.
“Conn, plot a tight parabolic course for
a short duration, high-warp sprint to the other side of the planet from this
vicinity. Let me know when it is done, and engage on my order only."
“Yes,
ma’am.”
She could hear the stress in his voice… but this was sink or swim,
and she didn’t have time to coddle him. He could take it… he would take it.
Just then, a massive burst of hard radiation from the sudden
dumping of trans-light velocity washed out sensor resolution, and announced
their third foe’s return to the battle with a vengeance.
"Damnit!" Amber yelled,
holding on for dear life as the newcomer savaged
Lakota's port side and swept past her
to join with the other Roman ships.
Caught me
flat-footed with my own trick! she
realised in grudging admiration as the deck's rearing subsided, while various
alarms began wailing. This lot aren't
your usual jumped-up minor power; we've got some serious trouble for the future
here!
"Damage
report!" she yelled. Then: "And shut off those damned
alarms!"
A sudden silence blanketed the bridge, into which Commander Rozhdestvenskiy's report fell. "Hull breaches
port-side on decks 21 through 27… main shuttlebay explosively
decompressed, hull structural integrity down to 40% in that area." The
first officer looked up in grim realisation as he continued, "And…”
“And?” she prodded.
“…and the forward section of the port nacelle has been wrecked.
We’re limited to impulse speeds."
No warp drive. That changed everything. Until now, they could have
ended it if things had grown too difficult.
Now….
They’ve been
using Excelsior-class starships for years themselves;
they knew what they were aiming for.
That we were actually lucky there is more than I can bear, the tall
Englishwoman thought in dismay, and even
that luck will not hold out much
longer.
"Lieutenant Norris, send out a distress call to the nearest Federation
starships, and let them know we'll need a warp-speed tow to safety."
"Yes,
sir."
Amber spared a glance for the damage control monitors showing a
schematic of the damage. In all the
scores of previous battles I've had to fight, it's always been "Warp
engines offline, Captain. It'll take blah-blah-blah minutes/hours to fix."
She shook her head angrily. Where the hell do these Romans get off by actually
wrecking the nacelle? It'll take weeks
in dry-dock to repair that damage!
"Course plotted and laid in pending final adjustments to IP,
Captain," McAllister reported.
"Thank you." For what it's worth now, you might as well
have plotted a course to Andromeda, the captain thought sourly.
The sensor picture finally cleared enough for Saldar
to report. "Captain, Fidelis has retreated behind the other two ships. All three
are regrouping for an attack on our starboard side."
Amber didn't need to be a tactical genius to know all that
concentrated firepower would maim her vessel if it hit. "Conn, new course, bearing 050 mark 355 and begin evasive
manoeuvres. Tactical, target the Insidiator with surgical strikes. I want another of these
ships taken down now! Break her
shields, and rupture her antimatter bottles. Barring that, take out her bridge
entirely. They cannot protect both at the same time on a Miranda!"
Seymour grimly watched the main viewer, on which the little drama
played out: McAllister, for a few moments, actually denied position to Lakota’s attackers, but could not gain
it for them in the face of three-to-one odds.
“Conn…”
"I’m trying,
Captain… but Pugnator
is manoeuvring to prevent exactly
what you ordered.”
Seconds later, in response to a beep from his board, Saldar reported, "Incoming hail."
"Don't keep me in suspense: From whom?" Amber asked, hope
raising her voice against her best effort.
It was a measure of how grim their situation really was.
The Vulcan frowned. “The Romans are now preventing communications…
but I received call marker NCC-1776 in response before subspace interference
grew too difficult to counter. According to Starfleet registry, such identifies
her as the Sovereign-class USS Liberty. They have heard our distress
call and, I must presume, are en route.
I would estimate her ETA, based on signal strength, at approximately 12 minutes."
Despite their current dire straits, Amber couldn't help but give a
second’s mental frown at Starfleet's “inspirational” registry number system,
before a grin took over her features. That
man may be a colossal pain, but there's no one I'd rather have at my back in a
fight. Her thoughts turned darker as she returned them to the current
situation. I just have to survive until
he gets here....
Another round of phaser fire splashed against what was left of the
shields, shaking the ship badly and punctuating the captain's thoughts far more
vehemently than she'd have liked.
Seymour scrambled for avenues of opportunity—or even survival—as
their tactical situation began to seriously deteriorate.
Damnit, Mantovanni, get your “legendary” arse over here now!
***
"Sir, I’m receiving a distress call, audio only." Tertius’ frown was audible.
His captain matched it.
“On speakers, Centurion; give it to us from the beginning."
The Roman made a slight adjustment on his board, putting the
message on a ten-second delay.
“This is the
Federation vessel USS Lakota hailing any Starfleet or allied ships within
range of the Neural star system. We are under attack by Magna Roman forces and
have lost warp capability. We urgently require immediate assistance. Attackers consist
of a Constitution-class cruiser and
two upgraded Miranda-class destroyer
escorts, refitted to Roman specifications. Applicable sensor data attached.
Captain Amber Seymour, commanding.”
That, thought Mantovanni, explains
his unease.
"Hail the Lakota.
Acknowledge their distress call and give our ETA, which is...?"
He arched a brow at Parihn.
Despite the fact the she couldn't see it, the Orion nonetheless
reacted as if she’d heard it.
"Precisely nine minutes, Captain… mark," she replied.
"Ten minutes it is, Tertius."
At his nod of compliance, Mantovanni ordered, "Afterwards… call Lieutenant
Rhodes to the bridge. Relinquish tactical on her arrival."
A grateful, “Understood,
sir,” was the reply.
Mantovanni respected his young charge’s Stoicism and devotion to
duty… but had no intention of placing
him in a position where he might have to fire on a Roman starship. After a few
moment’s further thought, he added, “You may also feel free to absent yourself
if you wish, Centurion. You would accrue no dishonour or demerit by such an
action.”
Tertius considered that, and then replied, “Permission to remain—in an
advisory capacity, Captain.”
Behind that hooded gaze, Mantovanni gave an internal nod of
approval.
Well done,
young man.
“Permission granted.”
One down….
He stood, and strolled down to where Commander Benteen
was studying her board with phaser-like intensity.
“You all right, Erika?”
She gave him a curt nod.
“Yes… but it’s still hard to hear Lakota’s in trouble. She was my ship, Cicero… if only for a few days.”
Mantovanni considered the illogic of his next statement… and then
proceeded anyway.
“Would you appreciate me making a promise I might not be able to
keep?”
Benteen looked at him hopefully. “Actually… I would.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “Very well.
“We’ll save her, Erika. I
promise.”
She smiled.
“I know.”
He stood by her, and together, they examined Lakota's supplementary data—what little had gotten through the
Romans’ subspace jamming, that is.
They read in silence, each generating and discarding options as
they did… and, despite his assurances, Mantovanni wondered whether, when they
arrived, there would be a Lakota to rescue.
***
"Take phasers offline and use the power to increase the SIF
to 110%. Whatever is left, put into shield reinforcement."
"Aye, Captain!" Rozhdestvenskiy
gasped, manning the console that had killed its previous operator a bare two
minutes ago.
Task done, Geogoriy took a moment to
gape at the wreckage around him. Half the bridge crew was down, victims of Pugnator's
last attack—which had also wrecked three stations and blocked the turbolift
shaft.
Captain Seymour sat rigidly in her command chair, wincing at every
jolt as her hand applied pressure to where two of her ribs had decided to take
a look outside their cage.
"Photons, target Pugnator’s antimatter bottles and fire!"
The torpedoes found their target—to little effect.
“It’s no good, ma’am,”
he groaned. “Her forward shields are heavily
reinforced, and she’s presenting them to us at all times. We just can’t get
around her, not on manoeuvring thrusters.” He sagged at his post. “We’re not
going t–”
A quick glance at his reconfigured panel almost made his legs go
weak with relief.
"Captain!" he called. "Liberty is entering the system. She's hailing the Rom–”
Again, Rozhdestvenskiy cut himself off
as a brooding presence filled half the main view screen.
"This is Captain
Mantovanni of the Federation starship Liberty. Roman vessels, you will cease your attack immediately and allow us to retrieve our ship and her
crew, or we will defend her." The dark man leaned back, as if to say
he wasn't concerned either way, and added,
"You have 20 seconds to provide physical evidence of your compliance."
For ten of those, Gregoriy had hopes the
battle was over.
"Open a channel to the Liberty,
and give me Captain Mantovanni as soon as he’s unoccupied, Saldor…
then reload torpedoes and hold for my command.” Seymour exhaled carefully, and
grimaced as she did. “We may not have to
finish this after all."
Then he saw it: Insidiator’s commander
had been unimpressed by either Liberty’s arrival
or her captain’s threat… and launched two torpedoes of her own.
“Impact in
six seconds.”
***
Cassandra Rhodes cursed.
“They’ve
fired again.”
Benteen warned, “She can’t
withstand another hit!”
Mantovanni snapped, “Parihn.”
The Orion nodded, and with a touch that defied belief, brought
them out of warp almost atop Lakota—presenting her own charge as the
torpedoes’ new target.
They struck, and the great starship trembled… but only for an
instant.
Though it was obvious, Rhodes reported, “Shields holding. No
damage.”
Mantovanni was cool under fire… but cold when angry.
“Cassandra…
respond in kind, if you please.”
Her fingers fairly danced over the tactical console, and Liberty’s forward phaser array gave
answer once, then a second time.
As her target’s screens flared, and faded, it became apparent a
third reply wouldn’t be necessary.
Rhodes couldn’t quite
keep the satisfaction from her tone.
“Her forward, starboard and dorsal shields are inoperative… and
her photon launchers, both fore and aft, are headed for a Roman scrap heap.”
An instant later, she remembered Tertius
beside her, and muttered, “Sorry.”
His expression never wavered. He was carefully still.
“No apology necessary… or
solicited, Lieutenant.”
The captain ordered, “Hail the Romans again.”
After a moment, Rhodes confirmed, “They’re receiving.”
Mantovanni’s voice sounded like it was emanating from a tomb.
“I’m not in the habit of
repeating myself. Don’t test me again.”
He gestured, and she cut the channel.
“Let’s hope they’ve had enough, and are willing to settle for a
draw.”
It seemed as if the captain’s wish was being fulfilled. Slowly,
the Roman vessels began to give ground. It was token… but it was the gesture
he’d required.
“Power has an eloquence all its own, does it not?” Sub-commander
T’Laris noted.
Mantovanni smiled briefly at the Rihannsu’s subtle jibe, and then
returned his attention to the task at hand.
"Sera, give me an damage assessment on Lakota."
"Aye, sir," replied the woman for whom the term “science
officer” had been dusted off and reinstated.
"Overall structural integrity at 37%... port nacelle
shattered in forward quarter… warp core stable and in no immediate danger.
Several near misses in that vicinity have destroyed or disabled many
subsystems, however," the half-Vulcan woman reported, voice grim.
"Life support is online, but there are multiple breaches along the
entirety of her hull. Their bridge has been specifically targeted and suffered
heavy damage, but is still functional."
The battle had been a fierce one: No quarter had been asked, and
none offered. Lakota had absorbed a
frightful amount of punishment, but her foes
were hardly unscathed; they had paid a heavy price for the wounds they’d
inflicted.
Their damage, though, wasn’t his
problem.
"Engineering and medical teams are ready to beam over,
sir," T'Laris reported, then took charge. “Lieutenant Rhodes, extend our
shields around them. Once they’re in place, we’ll begin rescue operations.
Commander Benteen, you will head the repair effort on
site; coordinate and express your needs to Commander MacLeod. Wring order from
chaos quickly, Commanders; I do not wish to linger where we are clearly
unwelcome."
Sera, gently teasing, replied in a traditional Romulan manner. “It
will be done, Sub-commander.”
T’Laris granted her the slightest smile. “See that it is.”
Benteen, though, was already headed for the transporter
room… and her old ship.
Mantovanni, T’Laris and MacLeod exchanged glances, almost as if
communing; then time resumed its course.
"Incoming audio-only message from the Roman command ship,
Captain."
"Let’s hear it, Cassandra."
"Federation starship
“I suggest you not test me, either, Captain Mantovanni—unless you wish
this unfortunate incident to become a casus belli.”
The Sicilian replied with a droll, “Your message is received,
acknowledged… and understood.”
After
He glanced at Tertius, and they
exchanged subtle smiles, before the younger man offered, “Lakota has stung them badly. A Roman commander expects to defeat an
inferior force with relative ease, employing superior tactics and discipline.
Captain Seymour has given an excellent accounting of her vessel, though... and
now, in the face of Libertas bella, this
man knows he is, for now, helpless.”
“Thank you, Centurion. Our perspectives seem to coincide.”
The Roman gave a slight inclination of his head. “Naturally, sir.”
T’Laris, checking her own armchair display, volunteered a
sobering, “As to his relative
bravado, sir… he is not attempting to deceive us: Using our enhanced sensor
suite, I detect a number of vessels at extreme range, but closing rapidly—seven
in all, including both a pair of modified Excelsior-class
vessels and a single refitted Ambassador-class.
The rest are frigates such as the smaller ones already present.”
Mantovanni nodded. “Time to intercept?”
“At their current speed of warp nine, they’re five hours and six
minutes away,” Parihn informed him.
“This rather strenuous response,” noted T’Laris, “seems to be an
indication of how seriously the Romans regard this incident.”
“Well, they’re not exactly part of the tactical equation yet,”
Their captain absorbed their observations without comment.
There had been an implication in the Roman commander’s comments
that nagged at him.
“Sera, give me a more comprehensive sensor sweep of the system.
Download the results, and any observations you care to make, to my display.”
“Aye, sir.”
He watched and marvelled, once again, at the capabilities of Sera
MacLeod, as she continued coordinating Lakota’s
repairs with her right hand, while scanning the system and collating the
accumulated data with her left. He smiled inwardly.
She’s
probably working on another invention, too.
"Indeed. I'll take this—and that analysis, Sera—in my ready
room." To his exec, Mantovanni ordered, "Sub-Commander, secure Lakota for warp speed towing by the time
we reach the system boundary."
"I hear and obey.”
Mantovanni returned an amused, “See
that you do.”
Once seated behind his desk, he activated a secure comm channel to
the crippled starship, and nodded to the attractive redhead sitting very still
in her command chair.
"Captain, I’m sorry for the delay; it seems there are some
intriguing extenuating circumstances to our situation. You are safe, though."
Hoarsely, she said, "Thank
you, Captain. My mind was set much at ease when I heard that it was you who
were coming to our aid.”
She tried to continue, but hissed as she shifted slightly in her
chair. Mantovanni examined her image more closely, noting the conflict between
discomfort and dignity as she first hunched to protect her left side, then
straightened despite the pain. His eyes softened slightly in sympathy for her
injuries, and respect for her dedication to duty.
He waited for Seymour to marshal herself, and he didn’t have to
wait long; she had a steely will.
"Captain, our mission–"
Both ships jolted suddenly as a tractor beam joined them… and a
scream ripped from his fellow captain.
Mantovanni was on his feet in an instant, tapping his badge for a
medical team even as she fell bonelessly from her
chair....
“Why?”
Amber Seymour smiled. Luciano Mantovanni was as direct as she’d heard.
He’d not even bothered to inquire about her condition, though the nod she’d
seen given him by her doctor might well account for that.
“I will answer that,
Captain … but I must first inform you that this mission has alpha epsilon
priority.”
Mantovanni arched a brow. Such a security protocol was one of the
highest Starfleet possessed: It guaranteed not only breadth of discretion for
those charged with its execution, but also made any military personnel informed
of the specifics directly responsible for its completion.
Her host gestured to Dr. Aiello, who promptly left the private
room in which she’d awoken.
“Computer, privacy protocols.” A few seconds later, he inclined
his head.
“Go on.”
Excellent, she thought.
“Captain, I was under orders to gain intelligence data and hard
facts about the Roman presence here. We were able to probe from a distance, but
the results were unsatisfactory—you know how inconclusive are long-range sensor
sweeps when the target is reluctant to be seen—and my orders were quite specific. We entered the system and were performing
in-depth scans of each planet and installation, when the three Roman starships
appeared and demanded our departure. I have to give credit where it is due:
They were upon us very quickly. My
tactical officer speculates they were sequestered in a polar orbit around
Neural V. As you know, a gas giant’s magnetic fields can obscure a vessel
exceedingly well.”
He nodded, and motioned for her to continue.
"The Romans warned us to cease operations and withdraw—once. I assumed, as any commander would,
that they would issue progressively more stringent warnings, and that I might just be able to satisfy my mission
before things grew unmanageable.”
She was indignant. “There
was no second warning. They simply attacked. We returned fire, and now here
we are." Captain Seymour shook her head in amazement at a lesson learned,
and added, "Despite their technological lag, they are formidable opponents."
Mantovanni said nothing.
Changing gears, she moved on to more pressing matters.
"Captain, it is imperative that you continue our mission and scan the inner
planets. The remaining Roman mobile forces in this area are of no threat to
you, and we need to know their defences."
His reply wasn’t what she’d expected.
“Considering what’s happened to Lakota, I daresay, ‘Fairly well defended.’”
Seymour wasn’t amused.
Coolly, she declared, “Be that as it may, their overall level of readiness is
still a concern.”
"'Level of readiness', Captain? This kind of aggressive
scouting is usually performed only as a precursor to an attack or invasion. The
Federation isn't at war with the Romans. This is, unfortunately, their space now … the Federation and
Starfleet have no jurisdiction here."
Her eyes widened in surprise, before narrowing again in anger.
"'No jurisdiction'? This system has been in our acknowledged
space for 200 years, and been a
Federation protectorate for half that! These Romans stroll right up and just
claim the system and we let them take it?
Look at what they did to the Talarians! Conquered
them in less than a year, and now they’ve moved in on the Ekosians!
Our mission–"
This was going exactly as he’d feared.
"Your mission is illegal,
Captain," he stated mildly. "The Neural system is sovereign Roman
territory and they asked you to leave.
You didn't. Whether or not we think it best for them, the people of this system
accepted the Empire as their ruler and protector because the Romans started giving them direct aid—increasing their
standard of living. If they’d conquered
them, the Federation would have reacted."
Just how the Federation
would have reacted was a sore point for Mantovanni. There was a good chance they'd still have done nothing more than
diplomatically protest, he thought in disgust. He might be for the most
part reconciled to the 24th century, but some of its realities still tried his
patience.
Of course,
losing 4,000 starships over a two-year period leaves a navy a little less
capable of fulfilling its commitments… and pretty damned gun shy.
"We still do not know that for sure, Captain." The scorn was evident in the redhead's voice as she
forcefully continued, "Part of our
mission here was to investigate exactly how
they did take this system from under the Federation's nose.” She finished,
“Debating legalities is a matter for diplomats and barristers. According to Starfleet regulations, Captain, these
are now your orders, as well. I
expect you to carry them out—post haste.”
Of course
you do. After all, that’s why I’m here. “Oh, brave new world that has such
people in it,” he thought.
“Well, we’ll see about fulfilling your expectations in a moment,
Captain. Just now, I have a few questions.”
“I don’t see that this
is the time,” she protested, making as if to stand. “My ship needs me, and–”
“Your ship is in good hands, so … you’ll make time.”
Mantovanni's eyes seemed dark and empty as the Void, yet saw all
too well for her taste. His tone had more than a note of finality; it sounded
like a horn of doom.
“You recently took Lakota’s
centre seat, didn’t you?”
She glared suspiciously. “What of it?”
Mantovanni ignored her question, and consulted the PADD he’d been
holding. “And your bridge crew … they’re all officers with whom you’ve served
for some years?”
“They are loyal and efficient; I had the good fortune to be able
to take them with me on this assignment.”
“‘Good fortune,’” he echoed. “That’s one possibility, I suppose.”
Again, he read from the little device.
“Commander Benteen tells me that Lakota was operating under isolation
protocols—that no exterior visuals were permitted except on the bridge… and
that all ship’s windows were set to maximum opacity. Is that correct?”
Stiffly, she replied, “It is. I prefer a crew not distracted from
their duties in combat situations.”
It was all he could do not to roll his eyes.
“According to Occam’s Razor, the
simplest explanation is usually the correct one. Now I don’t know about you,
but, to me, you’d shutter ports and deactivate screens if you didn’t want anyone looking outside. Perhaps that’s because
people of conscience don’t always take kindly to executing illegal orders?”
"Enough." The
chill in his voice was palpable. "You, and your bridge officers, are in
the employ…" He put a disgusted
emphasis on the word. "…of Section 31."
Judging from her expression, his instinctual throw of the dice had
just come up “seven”…
…or, if you looked at it another way, “snake eyes.”
For Amber Seymour, this had suddenly become the worst moment of
the last few hours … and that was
saying something.
There was obviously nothing left to be gained by further deception
or misdirection—which hadn't worked, regardless—so she nodded.
"Yes, Captain, I am. You seem upset by this. I would have
thought that you, of all people, would appreciate what we do for the
Federation. A ship commanded by one of your former crewmates was lost in this
system, just before the Romans 'took up residence', for goodness’ sake! Your
reputation led me to believe you would support
this course. It is people like you and I who take action when the diplomats give away our every advantage, we who protect–"
"Spare me your
rehearsed delusions of what is right and proper." Mantovanni's expression
had darkened further with each passing word. "Your assessment of my ethics
is insulting, though not surprising. You and your little clique of Byzantine spooks
assumed that if your mission were jeopardized, Liberty would be a perfect backup—that we’d ‘assume’ the Romans had
attacked you and the battle had simply drifted into the Neural system as you
manoeuvred for advantage … and, if push came to shove, that I wouldn’t bat an
eyelash at performing actions that are essentially acts of war. That’s why we were diverted into this
sector—so that we’d be the closest starship in the event things went
south."
Mantovanni’s analysis was infuriatingly accurate: She herself had,
upon noting patrol patterns, suggested the Liberty.
Now his arguments—arguments she would never have expected from
him—were weighing on her.
No! He will not make me feel this
way! Amber demanded of herself. I
serve the Federation far more loyally than even Luciano Mantovanni ever has, and the man has the temerity and
sheer arrogance to place me in the wrong?
Her accuser watched as she rallied herself … and then hit her with
his next barrage.
"We’ve downloaded all the scans you took … but since they
were obtained illegally, we’ll destroy them—unexamined.
Then, we’ll issue an apology to the Roman government, acknowledge that the
Federation is 100% at fault in this
situation, and depart without looking back.”
Amber couldn’t breathe. Everything
she’d fought for….
"As for you … you
are hereby placed under arrest for wilful and illegal assault on a sovereign
nation-state's territory and armed forces. You and your supporters will bear full responsibility for this act; there
won’t be any hiding behind that veil of anonymity you so enjoy, this
time."
"You cannot do that—any of it!"
An eyebrow went up in ironic amusement at her outburst.
“Watch me.”
Mantovanni shook his head, amazed and appalled.
She’s sold
her soul … and thinks she’s gotten a good deal.
“Patriotism is also ‘the last refuge of scoundrels,’ Agent
Seymour—then, and unfortunately, now. We may live in two different
Federations…” His smile made her rethink his weakness.
“…but I’ll make certain your jail cell is in mine.”