Star Trek: Clemency

#1: Shakedown

Prologue

Somewhere in Federation space, three months ago…

Admiral Christopher Green had been sitting down staring at the service record he had called up for a good half hour now. Lines and lines of text were displayed in front of him full of postings, reports, addendums, footnotes, references…it was quite possibly the longest service record he had ever read. This officer had been through one hell of a career so far and, if the information was accurate, he was only thirty-eight years old. He had also only achieved the rank of 'Commander'. On the one hand Green could see why, on the other hand he also wondered why someone hadn't had the good graces to promote the young man to 'Captain' and get it over with. After all, the man was prime 'Captain' material, if not just a tad rough around the edges.

He skimmed through the document again, not really taking much of it in as there was almost nothing he hadn't already committed to memory in the past thirty-one minutes. The 'Commander' had joined Starfleet Academy at the age of sixteen, as soon as he was able to do so. He soon discovered an aptitude for just about anything technological and graduated to become an engineering officer. After a rocky start to his career he served for several years aboard the U.S.S. Mayflower and found his feet, steadily moving through the ranks. After finishing his studies at Starfleet Command school he became the Executive Officer aboard the U.S.S. Destiny. This is the part of the story where Green felt sorry for the poor lad. Destiny was destroyed in one of many foolish tactical blunders during the Dominion War and the 'Commander' had been captured. Apparently he had endured four months as a P.O.W. before engineering his own escape aboard a Cardassian shuttle and making his way back to Federation space. He had been on enforced medical leave for the past three months. The young man had wanted to return to service straight away. Whether he was tough of just stupid was something that was up for debate but Green had already decided it was a little of both.

After he had finished reading through the service record again Green took a sip from the mug that sat beside his computer terminal. The half-finished green tea contained inside had been long cold and the Admiral pulled a face; cold tea tasted worse than that awful Klingon muck that some called 'strong coffee'. He scrolled up the service record and took another look into the man's eyes. The picture was taken just before he set off on his tour with Destiny. Not for the first time Green wondered how much the 'Commander' had changed. In his service record his eyes betrayed a conviction, but a hunger to see what was out there, in the farthest reaches of the galaxy. After four months in a Cardassian P.O.W. camp he wondered if that hunger was still there.

'Not that it matters.' Green thought to himself. He had to keep reminding himself of why he was looking over this man's service record. He didn't need an explorer. He didn't need a diplomat, a scientist or a man of so-called reason. Most of all he didn't need a typical, by-the-book Starfleet officer. All he needed was someone who could tell the difference between right and wrong. Green had one chance to put that kind of man in the Captain's chair. While the Admiral knew that he wasn't psychic, nor did he claim to be able to predict the future, he knew what was coming. It was right there in the status reports that he was being sent every day. Something horrible was about to happen within the Federation. But Admiral Christopher Green had a chance to steer the course of events by picking the right man out of the crowd and putting him in the right place. He just hoped that it wasn't already too late.

Green looked into the young man's eyes once more. The 'Commander' had already been through hell and come back fighting. He had already seen what no-one in Starfleet should see and he had already been through more than his fair share. But Green took those feelings and stored them in a deep, dark hole at the back of his mind. He knew what he had to do, what he needed to do. And it all started by putting this man in the right place. He just hoped, not for the last time, that he knew what he was doing.

He read the last line of the service record. The 'Commander' was currently staying at Starfleet Medical in San Fransisco, Earth. He tapped the intercom that was wired to his receptionist's desk outside. "Lieutenant, I need a direct line to Starfleet Medical."

"Yes sir." Came the detached reply through the speaker built into Green's desk. There was only a pause for a moment or two before his secretary spoke again. "I have Starfleet Medical for you, sir."

Admiral Green took another sip from his stone cold green tea as he hoped that he knew what he was doing.