Beverly gave herself a mental shake as she lowered herself into her chair. Her advocate sat with her, his expression as puzzled as she felt.
She wanted to call out to Jean-Luc as he walked past; to insist he tell her what was going on – to explain what insane plot he'd hatched with… with Lwaxana Troi?
Instead, she sat silently as he strode past her and stood in the centre of the room. He nodded to Lwaxana and she gestured for him to proceed as though she controlled the hearing rather than the admirals behind the large table.
"Admiral Jameson and esteemed members of the tribunal," Jean-Luc said. "Before I begin my character reference on behalf of the ambassador from Betazed, I would ask one more time, as Doctor Crusher's commanding officer, that you dismiss all charges against her."
"Request denied," Jameson replied. "Commander Crusher disobeyed a direct order, stole a shuttle, and was derelict in her duties to her patients and her posting when she disappeared with no word for over three months."
Jean-Luc's lips thinned as he inhaled. He held his breath for a slow count of four before releasing it through his nose, and Beverly shivered. She'd worked at his side for too long not to recognize the figurative girding of his loins.
Admiral Jameson and the panel didn't know it—yet—but Jean-Luc had just prepared himself for battle.
A battle of logic and rhetoric.
A battle, she thought as her heart skipped a beat, I may now have a hope of surviving.
"I have had the privilege of knowing Doctor Crusher for nearly three decades, and a further privilege of serving with her for seven of those years," Jean-Luc said. "Never could I have wished for a more staunch companion, skilled senior officer, or talented physician on my crew."
Jameson leaned back in his chair and not so subtly glanced at his chronometer.
Beverly's heart sank. As much as the even timbre of his voice calmed her nerves, she doubted even the legendary Jean-Luc Picard could change the verdict on five charges in a little over ten minutes.
She studied Jean-Luc as he stood in front of her and tried to tune out his praise. Never comfortable with public acknowledgement of her skills and successes—she hated it when her staff made a big deal whenever her research ended up published in medical journals—it somehow seemed even more embarrassing coming from Jean-Luc.
She chewed on her lip as she watched him punctuate his words with crisp and effective hand gestures. She bit back a grin as she followed his monologue, guessing—correctly—when he'd lift his right hand, cut the air, or redirect the admirals' attention by emphasizing a different point with his left hand. An experienced choreographer herself, she admired the effective use of body language as he argued his points.
Jean-Luc began listing her commendations and she squirmed as an uncomfortable heat rushed up her neck and settled behind her ears. Why did hearing him articulate her record aloud make her want to flee the room?
Because you don't want him to see you as a Starfleet officer with over thirty years' experience, a voice inside her head whispered. You want him to see you as a woman.
Beverly snapped her gaze from Jean-Luc over to Lwaxana. She frowned, knowing the telepath couldn't have spoken the words in her mind.
Lwaxana arched an elegantly painted eyebrow and tilted her head as if to say, "I didn't say it, dear, but I didn't have to. We both know it's true."
Beverly blushed more deeply and turned her attention back to the drama unfolding in front of her.
"—And cannot be allowed to serve as an example to others," Jameson finished.
Jean-Luc sighed. "Admiral, with all due respect, you're planning on stripping Doctor Crusher of her medical license and sending her for rehabilitation for four years. Doesn't that seem a little harsh for someone who was following orders?"
"Following orders?" Jameson asked. "She was ordered by Commander Riker to stand down, and she refused."
"Doctor Crusher is a physician," Picard replied. "Her moral compass compels her to save lives no matter the personal risk or bureaucratic red tape. 'Save lives' is her primary duty, and it's the command she holds loyal to, no matter the cost. She doesn't recognize uniform pips or battlefield lines when lives need saving."
He glanced at her, and she heard the silent, Even though I wish she wouldn't throw herself into danger to help others with quite so much enthusiasm.
"She has, on more than one occasion, refused to acknowledge my orders when it meant choosing between her own personal safety and the lives of others. And she has, more than once, received commendations for her bravery as a result. This very institution has awarded her one of its highest honours for what amounted to disobeying Starfleet orders in order to hold true to the greater command of saving lives.
"Why then, is she is being prosecuted now, for what has previously been acknowledged to be a positive trait?"
Jameson scowled. "We can't have Starfleet officers disobeying orders whenever it suits them. The organization would devolve into chaos."
"And we cannot have Starfleet officers blindly following protocol at all costs," Picard stated. "If so, Starfleet would have staffed its ships with lifelike automatons decades ago. You know as well as I that situations arise where the needs at the moment may seem to run counter to the guidelines and dictates of the organization. Without the ability to challenge protocol—without the license to think outside the box—none of us would, or could, be effective Starfleet officers."
"Captain Picard," Jameson said. "There is a difference between adjusting standard operating procedures to resolve a tense diplomatic situation and going rogue and acting as though none of those regulations apply to oneself. Commander Crusher didn't 'think outside the box' as you so delicately phrased it; she behaved as though she wasn't even aware the box existed in the first place."
"Admirals," Jean-Luc continued. "Let me bring to your attention—"
Jameson abruptly stood. "I'm afraid, Captain, your fifteen minutes are up. I must ask you to take your seat."
Jean-Luc nodded and walked past Beverly. She stared at him, willing him to at least make eye contact with her. She wanted—needed—him to know she appreciated the effort he made on her behalf.
Even if it had been futile.
"Ambassador Troi," Jameson said, addressing the older woman. "Thank you for presenting your character reference on behalf of Commander Crusher. However, I'm afraid what little information that was brought forward by your representative hasn't altered the conclusion of the panel. Your trip was—as I suspected it would be, had I sent you an invitation to speak—a waste of your valuable time."
Lwaxana stood. She nodded at the admiral and said, "Thank you, Admiral Jameson. I have no doubt, however, that had Captain Picard been given sufficient time to present his case, that the verdict would be quite different."
Jameson's diplomatically neutral expression flickered to one of annoyance when she mentioned Jean-Luc. The admiral obviously hadn't appreciated having his hearing subverted by her friends.
"That, Ambassador, is something we will never know for certain," Jameson replied. "Now, I suggest we return to the matter at hand. Commander Crusher, please stand."
A chair at the back of the room scraped as someone stood, and Beverly watched as a Vulcan strode to the front of the room, hands tucked within the sleeves of his robes, and stopped in front of the panel.
Jameson's eyes widened. "Ambassador T'Ren?" he said, clearly puzzled.
The Vulcan nodded. "I am here on behalf of the Vulcan people. I wish to be accorded the same respect shown to the ambassador from Betazed with regard to this hearing."
Jameson blinked. "You want to submit a character reference on behalf of Commander Crusher?"
A tiny butterfly took wing in the pit of Beverly's stomach. Surely Jean-Luc hadn't—? I mean, it's one thing to ask Lwaxana to intervene, but—
"It is only logical," the Vulcan replied. "And, fully in accordance with Starfleet protocol governing the submission of evidence in a court martial."
Beverly watched as Admiral Jameson clenched his jaw and resumed his seat. He nodded curtly to the Vulcan and said, "Go ahead, Ambassador. You may have your fifteen minutes."
"Thank you," T'Ren said as he bowed slightly to the panel.
Beverly felt the blood drain from her head as her earlier suspicions were confirmed. She watched, dumbfounded, as the elder statesman turned to face the room, nodded once to Beverly as he passed, returned to his seat, and then added, "I yield the floor to Captain Jean-Luc Picard."
She felt her world tilt even further off-kilter as Jean-Luc stood and resumed his speech precisely where he left off.
At the end of the Vulcan's fifteen minutes, Admiral Jameson attempted to wrap up the proceedings for the third time. However, when the Bolian ambassador stood and wended her way to the front of the room, the admiral flopped back in his chair and with a resigned sigh.
"Let me guess, Ambassador," he said as he scrubbed his face. "You'd like to speak on behalf of the defendant."
"Yes, Admiral," Ambassador Bor said.
"And," Jameson added with a sigh. "Let me also guess – you intend to yield the floor to Captain Picard."
"Yes, Admiral."
When the Bolian's fifteen minutes were up, Jean-Luc didn't even bother with the pretense of returning to his seat. He simply waited in front of her table for the next diplomat to request the opportunity to speak.
If her future hadn't been on the line, Beverly would have found the never-ending parade of diplomats disrupting her court martial only to hand their time over to Jean-Luc unsurpassingly funny.