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Know Thyself
Chapter Ten
Legal proceedings, she knew, included more than a little bit of theater. The facts and evidence were important, of course, but so was the way they were presented. Context mattered. So did appearances, which was why Katrina chose not to downplay the presence of her crutches. Let the inquiry board remember just how much being a Starfleet officer had cost her.
Her lawyer had raised his eyebrows when she told him what she was doing, but the expression had been followed by a chuckle. "Good for you, Admiral. The board won't stand a chance against an attitude like that."
She hadn't been so sanguine, but there was no reason to dampen his enthusiasm, so she'd simply changed the subject, moving along to their procedural planning. Now, after arriving in the courtroom for the first time, she forced herself to sit ramrod-straight in the chair. Showing battle injuries was one thing. Showing defeat was quite another.
At least Admiral Terral was seated in the witness section instead of on the hearing board. The corners of his eyes had crinkled slightly as she'd come in, momentarily softening his usual near-scowl, but she doubted anyone else noticed.
"Admiral Katrina Cornwell," intoned Admiral Shukar, who was chairing the board. "You have the right to be aware of the accusations that have been made against you. Please stand."
Her lawyer signaled her to remain seated. "The Admiral would stand except for the nature of her injuries."
"The Admiral's recovery status is known to this board. She came into the room on her feet."
"With considerable difficulty, and if whatever you're planning to read is going to take a while —"
Katrina bit her lip and pulled herself up using the edge of the table. "It's all right, Commander Masri." She'd save her battles for later.
"Thank you," said Shukar, inclining his antennae briefly as he picked up a padd. "Admiral Cornwell, this is not a court-martial, and you are not on trial. The purpose of this hearing is to determine whether such an action is necessary. Serious accusations have been raised about certain of your command decisions while assigned to the Crossfield project.
"Specifically: you have been accused of giving an illegal order to search out and capture members of a potentially-sentient species for a purpose which could be described as enslavement. You have been accused of intentionally taking no action upon learning that a Starfleet officer under your indirect command was engaging in illegal genetic manipulation. You have been accused of potential dereliction of duty after failing to identify a Starfleet officer under your direct command as an imposter.
"Finally, you have been accused of exceeding your authority by attempting to continue an unsanctioned diplomatic activity. The fact that said activity was initiated by a properly trained and accredited representative of the Federation does not excuse the extent of the danger to which you exposed both yourself and your privileged knowledge of Starfleet operations."
He laid down the padd. "Admiral, are you familiar with each of the situations I have referenced in these charges?"
"Yes," she answered, and she was: the tardigrades. Paul Stamets. Gabriel Lorca. Cancri IV.
"Are you, at this time, prepared to respond to questions from the board? You should be aware, Admiral, that your replies can and very well may be used during a subsequent court-martial."
She took a breath. "Yes. I'm prepared."
"You don't wish to invoke your right against self-incrimination?"
Rules are for admirals in back offices! the fake Lorca had shouted at her when she'd confronted him about Stamets. I'm out there trying to win a war!
It was ironic, she thought, that in the end, he'd actually accomplished that. That she was the one who was about to take the fall for the rule-breaking was, in a way, almost poetic.
Almost. After all, there might be some difference of opinion about whether rules had truly been broken.
"Admiral?" Shukar prompted.
"No," she said now. "I won't need to invoke any rights to silence. Go ahead and swear me in."
In the week and a half it had taken to present testimony and evidence, she'd managed to almost work her way up to walking a hundred meters without the crutches. Still, Katrina kept bringing them with her, since there were days that the hearing itself left her too exhausted to manage even ten without assistance.
Admiral Drake was leading the questioning this afternoon. "In your opinion, Admiral Terral, did Admiral Cornwell exercise prudent judgment when she accepted Ambassador Sarek's request to stand in for him at the negotiations on Cancri IV?"
"Yes," said Terral, keeping his eyes focused on Commander Masri. "She did. She insisted on a full security detail and on transmitting all pertinent records prior to her arrival. She also personally locked down the shuttle's information systems, using multiple encryption methods, to prevent infiltration. Admiral Cornwell would not have taken such a step if she had not suspected a trap. She was equally aware that failing to report to Cancri IV could have led to accusations of Federation insincerity, as the Klingons were unaware that the talks were not officially sanctioned. In my opinion, both her judgment and her actions were sound."
Katrina glanced over at the prosecutor's table, surprised they hadn't objected to receiving a speech in response to a yes-or-no question. Nobody glanced back.
Masri flicked his eyes to the hearing panel. "No further questions, Sirs, and that was our last witness."
Since this wasn't a full trial, there would be no closing statements. After Terral stepped down, the admirals huddled together briefly and then returned to their seats. "This hearing stands adjourned," announced Shukar. "We will deliberate and issue our decision when complete. Until then, all parties are dismissed. Thank you."
"So now we wait," she said as Masri sat down at their table. "Any ideas how long it will take?"
"No," he admitted, "but I'm still optimistic. We got to present our side of the case fairly, and the facts look good. The board didn't shut down any lines of testimony that showed you in a positive light. That's even better."
She nodded, pushing to her feet. Masri stayed by her side as she made her way down the aisle toward the back of the room. "Do you need assistance, Admiral?"
"No," she gritted out.
"Do you think it went well, then?" he asked.
"I don't know," she admitted.
"Well, didn't you see the admirals' faces? No," he continued. "Of course not. You were too busy thinking through things. They could tell you were doing that, you know. Thinking before reacting. But since you have a reputation for doing that, it didn't hurt you. It might've even helped. Getting back to the testimony though, I was watching expressions, and at least Drake and Nerevin seemed like they could see your side of it."
By her estimation, twelve steps remained between her and the hearing room door.
The lawyer kept on going. "I think our defense strategy worked. Every decision you made, you made because you realized it's been years since Starfleet had to fight a full-scale war. Since the Romulans, really, last century, and everyone who fought in that is dead. Or at least retired. So current types of thinking wouldn't have worked. We needed out-of-the-box thinking, which is why you were willing to give Captain Lorca more latitude than normal."
Six steps to go. "No, Masri, I was ordered to give him that latitude."
"True, which is a point in your favor. And it's not like you were the one who administered the evaluations after the Buran was destroyed. So you can't be held entirely responsible for failing to identify him. That's a point in your favor, too. He fooled everyone, not just you, and it's worth noting he fought pretty well for our side before he was unmasked."
Just two more steps. Once they were out of the room, there were any number of good excuses she could use to beg off any further conversation and go lie down somewhere.
"…think about my Plan B?"
Katrina stopped and turned just as the doors slid open. "What was that?"
"I said, have you had a chance to think about my Plan B?" he asked, gently guiding her toward a bench in the hallway. "In case they do vote for court-martial?"
"I thought you were feeling optimistic that it wouldn't."
"I am. But that doesn't mean it won't be smart to anticipate it, since it'll go fast if things go that direction."
Her lips firmed as she sat down, balancing the crutches in front of her. "I'm not going to plead diminished capacity, or undue stress, or anything like that, if that's what you're talking about. I'd have made every single one of those decisions again."
"Even if you had known that Captain Lorca was an imposter?"
Her temper started to unravel. "The point of my defense, Commander, was that I didn't. He fooled everyone, not just me, and the need to fight this war colored all our thinking. Including Command's!" When she took a breath to continue, the corridor began to spin. She automatically reached out to the wall behind her to steady herself, only remembering the crutches when they clattered loudly on the floor.
His expression changed. "Admiral, you're not all right."
Had he only now noticed? "I'll be fine once I get some rest."
"Should I call someone to take you back to your apartment?"
She began to object, but then thought about the distance between the transport station and her front door. Closing her eyes, she nodded. "Yeah. You probably should."
"Do you need a medic, as well?"
"No. Just peace and quiet."
"Well, you should be able to get some while we're waiting," replied Masri as he made for the comm panel a few steps away. "Though hopefully, it won't be too long."
"Access restricted."
Katrina rolled her eyes. "Fine. Search Starfleet Medical database. Authorization Cornwell, Dr. Katrina, security level pi-beta-four."
The computer interface paused, giving her a chance to key a manual sequence she'd learned a long time ago, while working with civilian computer scientists at the Daystrom Institute. She was a psychologist, not an information systems specialist, so this wasn't easy. But there was something to be said for dogged determination, and her lockouts at Cancri IV had been so successful that the Klingons had slagged the shuttle's computers out of frustration.
Apparently I'm better at hacking than I realized.
In front of her, the console screen cleared and reset itself. "Medical records available."
"Status of Captain Gabriel Lorca?"
"Released to next duty assignment, SD 1187.4." Unfortunately, she'd been locked out of the specifics of that assignment, which is why she was looking in the medical records now.
"Access outpatient follow-up records." Maybe they'd contain clues about that elusive duty assignment.
"Working. None found."
Katrina blinked. "None found, or none available?"
"None found."
Okay, then. She wasn't going to find Gabriel using his medical records. Leaning back in her chair, Katrina took a long sip from the coffee she'd replicated and then made a face: it'd gone cold. A glance at the chrono confirmed it was nearly noon on this, the second day since the hearing had gone into deliberation.
She'd spent most of yesterday asleep, getting up only to make her way back and forth to the restroom and for glasses of water. This morning, though, Katrina had woken up at her normal time and discovered she was not only decently rested, but able to leave the crutches by her bedside as she moved around her apartment.
Within a couple of hours, though, she'd also discovered she had nothing to do.
What was taking so long?
Shaking her head to clear it, she bent over the desk and back to her self-appointed task. "Computer, scan public records for any recent directory or address listings for Captain Gabriel Lorca."
"None found."
Another blank wall. "None found, or record restricted?"
"None found. Admiral, you have an incoming transmission from Commander Abdallah Masri."
"Pause search and accept. Masri, is this what I think it is?"
"Yes, ma'am," he answered. "They're convening in an hour. Do you need transport?"
She glanced at the bedroom, where she'd left her crutches, and debated for a long moment. "No. I'll see you in an hour."
There had been a time she'd have counted Shukar as, while perhaps not a friend, at least a friendly colleague. That time, Katrina realized, was not today. His face, as he met her eyes, was as impassive as a Vulcan's. "Admiral Cornwell, are you prepared to hear the decision of this board?"
"Yes," she said. "Let's get on with it."
His eyes twitched at her informal phrasing, but he otherwise ignored it. "Very well, then. It is the decision of this board that a court-martial is not warranted in this case."
She couldn't help the huge sigh of relief. Out of the corner of her eye, Masri grinned.
"However," he continued, and now he dropped his eyes to the padd in front of him. Masri's grin disappeared. "It is our judgment that some of your decisions were inappropriate, made without due consideration, and may possibly have been biased. Your conduct was not criminal. However, it also failed to meet the high level of expectations associated with upper flag rank."
Her hands clenched on the table in front of her.
"It is therefore our decision that disciplinary action should be taken, and that it should be significant. You are hereby reduced to the rank of Captain, with the associated reduction in salary and benefits. Future promotion back to flag rank, if any, will be subject to extremely strict scrutiny. You are also being removed from the Crossfield project and reassigned to a less sensitive post which will be determined by Starfleet Operations.
"Do you understand the sanctions against you, Captain Cornwell?"
It was an effort to get the word out. "Yes."
"Do you have any statement at this time?"
Masri looked at her expectantly, but she shook her head. "None, sir."
"Then these proceedings are concluded. You will report to the Starfleet Operations office in three days and will be on a paid leave of absence until then. Dismissed."
Outside the courtroom, Masri turned to her. "We'll get started on the appeal right away."
"No, we won't."
"What? Three ranks? That was way too harsh!"
"It's the highest non-flag rank," she said, noting almost absently that her hands were still so tightly clenched that the knuckles were going white. "It makes sense."
"No it doesn't! There's no need to take you off the line, either. What are you thinking, Captain?"
Captain. The word grated. "It means that Captain Lorca, wherever he is, was right."
Starfleet meant to bury this.
"Delivery for Captain Cornwell."
Even after two weeks, she still wasn't used to hearing that, although she'd finally managed to train herself not to react. Katrina's expression was bland as she looked up from the treatment reports she was reviewing. "I don't recall ordering anything."
The courier hesitating in her doorway shrugged and checked his padd. "It's right here, ma'am. An order of moo goo gai pan for Captain Katrina Cornwell, Starfleet Medical Mental Health division. Is that you?"
"Yes, I'm Cornwell." She stood to accept the delivery, which smelled delicious, and with a start realized it was nearly lunch time. "Thank you. Who ordered the meal?"
"According to this, you did."
She frowned, but there was no point arguing with the courier. Instead, accepted the meal and carried it back to her desk. Steam wafted out of the entrée box when she opened it, making her mouth water in response, particularly when she noticed that the restaurant had skipped the cabbage. Whoever had ordered this apparently knew her preferences.
Digging back into the bag, she pulled out the condiments and found two fortune cookies among them. Her breath caught, the food forgotten as she opened the wrappers. The first one was a generic platitude: know thyself and all will be revealed. The second one, though, was exactly what she thought it would be.
Merely to blow the bridge is a failure.
It was from the first chapter of the book she and Gabriel had shared at Starbase Eighty-Eight. Katrina turned the slip of paper over. The string of numbers looked innocuous at first glance, but they were clearly coordinates written in the old-fashioned latitude-longitude manner.
Smiling to herself, she sat down and turned back to the meal.