RATING: PG-13
TIMELINE: Shortly after the arrival of Voyager on Earth.
SUMMARY: After two weeks filled with celebrations in honour of the returning crew of the Voyager, there is unsettled business in the halls of Starfleet. The dreaded Maquis Inquiry, designed by militant members of Starfleet Intelligence to weed out 'traitors' in the Federation, has entered its second straight year. The tale begin in the vast compound of Starfleet Command, San Francisco ...
[Starfleet Intelligence HQ, hearing room 2B]
The security officer outside the hearing room stood at attention as Cmdr. Chakotay and Lt. Torres approached. The steel doors slid open.
"Do you have any idea why we were summoned here?" Torres wondered.
"Your guess is as good as mine," Chakotay replied. "Capt. Janeway simply told me that the powers-that-be in Starfleet Intelligence insisted that we report here."
Torres seemed puzzled. "We've been here well over two weeks! Why wait until now to summon us?"
A lieutenant directed them to a steel committee table. When they took their seats, Chakotay leaned towards his half-Klingon friend.
"When we were the darlings of the Federation," he whispered, "feted by the Admiralty and the ambassadors, it probably would be impolitic to call us in for a briefing."
The doors behind them swished open. Cmdr. Riker was hastily adjusting his uniform.
"Commander?" Torres blurted out.
"Do you know why we were summoned here so soon?" Riker wondered. "I was helping Laforge with upgrades to the Enterprise's photon torpedo bays: apparently an outbreak of the flu has kept most of our engineering crews in bed. With Picard on extended leave, I've had to take on matters of protocol normally left to the captain. My plate's full enough already."
"Then you don't know why they called you here?" Chakotay asked.
"I was ordered here," Riker shrugged, "by the Admiralty." He nodded towards the lieutenant who had ushered them to their seats. "Excuse me, lieutenant. Do you know what this meeting is about?"
"I don't know either," the lieutenant remarked. "but I guess Admiral Ravvik will explain things when he arrives."
Riker's eyes widened in shock, as he let out a frustrated sigh.
"You know of this Ravvik?" Chakotay mumbled.
Riker leaned towards the Voyager shipmates. "Two years ago, there was a political tug-of-war between rival camps in the Intelligence hierarchy. There were those who wanted to consolidate our gains: they were called the 'diplomats' because they wanted to rely on negotiations and treaties to secure the Federation's interests ..."
"I suppose there were those who didn't like that," Torres replied.
"Ravvik was a Starfleet captain, a Vulcan, who had caught the attention of the Intelligence hierarchy," Riker continued, "He was promoted to the Admiralty, and he immediately took a more aggressive approach and surrounded himself with members of the 'cavalry' faction."
"Cavalry?" Chakotay snickered.
"This faction grew weary of negotiating and sought more -- persuasive -- methods of achieving Federation goals," Riker mentioned. "That new shipyard in Oakland? It was his idea. Some say he plans to double the size of the fleet in five years. Word to the wise: Ravvik is not a man to cross."
"I don't think I like the sound of this meeting," Torres sulked in her chair.
The door swished open again. Admiral Ravvik, who appeared to be around 40 years old, entered. "All rise," the lieutenant announced. The three officers quickly stood at attention.
"At ease, officers," Ravvik replied. "You may be seated." For several minutes, there was silence as the admiral briefly reviewed data pads. He studied them meticulously. Chakotay coughed uncomfortably in his seat. Once in a while, the beep of a data pad button would break the silence. Torres sipped at a glass of water and glanced at Riker, who stared blankly at the ceiling lights.
"Cmdr. Riker of the USS Enterprise," Ravvik spoke, "I've often heard of you, but I've not had the pleasure of meeting you. Your captain speaks highly of you."
"Thank you, sir," Riker answered.
"I thank you for your work on the Counter-Insurgency Project," Ravvik stated.
Chakotay raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"I was actually a substitute," Riker explained, "Worf's name was forwarded to Starfleet Intelligence, but by that time he was on the frontlines of the Dominion War."
"You are much too humble, Commander," Ravvik stated. "Your insights will help us react to trouble spots throughout the Federation. In fact, your work on the CI Project qualifies you to be here. As an advocate."
"An advocate?" Riker stood up, stunned by the news. "For what purpose?"
Ravvik quietly tapped his data pads. Minutes of silence.
"Admiral?" Riker demanded.
Ravvik focused his gaze on the Voyager officers, ignoring Riker's question. "Cmdr. Chakotay, Lt. B'Elanna Torres. You were granted field commissions aboard the Voyager shortly after the ship disappeared from the Badlands seven years ago, is that correct?"
"Yes, sir," Chakotay replied. He looked over to Torres, who suddenly sensed that something was wrong.
"According to Intelligence Regulation 967, passed by the Intelligence Committee six months ago: 'A Starship captain cannot grant field commissions to those who have not recanted their loyalties to parties deemed hostile to the Federation'.
"I don't believe this!" Riker exclaimed. "You mean to say this ... is the Maquis Inquiry!" He shook his head in disgust. "No, no, I won't be a party to this. These are Starfleet officers, not Maquis terrorists!"
Ravvik exhaled, seemingly indifferent to Riker's outburst. "The Maquis Inquiry is designed to provide Starfleet with the ability to seek out elements within our ranks that may pose a threat to the security of the Federation."
He tapped a data pad, then handed it to the lieutenant. "Take this to the Admiralty." The lieutenant nodded, then left the room.
Riker appeared to be ready to begin another tirade, but Ravvik held up a hand to stop him.
"The Starfleet Code of Discipline does not apply to them," Ravvik muttered, "since -- as of this moment -- they are no longer Starfleet officers." He looked again at Torres and Chakotay. "I have reviewed your field commissions. And have revoked them."
"Starfleet is not a police state!" Riker declared. "Chakotay, Torres, we're leaving. Don't give this witch trial the dignity of any testimony."
"Walk out that door, Cmdr. Riker," Ravvik replied, "and I will hold you in contempt of this inquiry. You can bid your duties on the Enterprise farewell if it comes to that. I have appointed you as their advocate. You will do your job -- and do it well." Riker could barely contain his anger. Many officers had lost their careers because they had sympathized with the Maquis' activities in the Badlands. Now, two members of the Voyager's crew were facing the same danger.
Ravvik glanced briefly at Riker. "If you prefer, I will appoint one of my subordinates to stand in your place."
Riker traded excited whispers with Chakotay and Torres. What choice did they have?
"I will accept's the advocate's role," Riker replied. "But I will need time to continue my duties aboard the Enterprise."
"That won't be necessary," Ravvik commented. "Lt.-Cmdr. Data will assume your role as acting captain until the end of proceedings. I suggest you use the extra time to prepare your clients' defense."
"How can I plan a defense," Riker barked angrily, "when I don't even know what the charges are?"
Ravvik's even-tempered mood changed, as he impatiently sighed. "They are Maquis. The charges are conspiracy to commit acts against the Federation, terrorism, sabotage and treason. If your clients are found guilty of treason, rest assured they will never wear a Starfleet uniform again."
"And if I succeed?" Riker challenged.
Ravvik paused, as if that possibility was absurd. "Then their field commissions will be restored. Of course, we can end this inquiry today -- if the former commander and lieutenant are prepared to sign this recantation." He crossed the committee room and presented a data tablet to Torres and Chakotay.
Torres grabbed the tablet and read it, as Chakotay looked over her shoulder.
"I so declare ... reject the political objectives as rebellious ... consider Maquis activities as treasonous in intent ..." Torres mumbled through the document. She tossed the tablet on the ground.
"My friends were massacred when the Federation gave their concessions to Cardassia!" she growled. "I will not let you disgrace their memory by forcing me to call everything we believed in -- fought for -- as a lie!"
Ravvik picked up the document. "So be it. Proceedings commence at 0900 hours tomorrow."
He began to return to his desk, then stopped. "Please hand over your communicators and rank insignia to Cmdr. Riker. You are no longer Starfleet officers entitled to the privileges of that uniform."
Torres slammed her communicator on the table, ripped the rank pips from her collar and flung them on the floor. She stormed out of the room.
"B'Elanna!" Chakotay hollered, to no avail. He slowly removed his communicator, then carefully removed his rank insignia.
"I had hoped that my field commission would be confirmed," Chakotay pouted, "because I thought I had earned it."
"I'll see you at the mess hall at 0800 tomorrow," Riker mentioned to Chakotay, "Commander." He made sure the admiral heard him address Chakotay by rank.
When he picked up Torres' rank pips, Riker glared at Ravvik. "I intend to inform Capt. Picard of this. As you know, he opposed the Admiralty's adoption of these new intelligence directives. Directives not sanctioned by the Federation Council."
"You'll learn that the captain of the Enterprise does not hold the degree of influence in the Council that he once did," Ravvik warned. "Be mindful of that, Commander, lest your own career suffers because of it."
Half an hour later, Riker returned to the Officers' Club.
"Whisky, straight up," Riker told the bartender. In the corner, he saw Lt. Tom Paris sulking alone. Paris spotted Riker, then got up and marched towards the bar.
"What the hell just happened at Intelligence HQ?" he demanded.
"The rumours are true," Riker muttered between sips. "The Maquis Inquiry for the Protection of the Federation is alive and well. They're not going to rest until every last Maquis sympathizer, brigade commander and political activist is swept away from Starfleet."
"Chakotay's spoken to Janeway," Paris noted, "and I've filed a formal complaint with Admiral Paris. Janeway intends to speak with Federation councillors tonight. I assume you've told Picard?"
Riker sighed. "Admiral Ravvik has let it be known -- in no uncertain terms -- that no amount of political horse-trading will derail his goal. He already has their commissions. What he wants is to destroy their reputations."
Ensign Kim burst into the Officers' Club. "Tom, I just heard. I'm so sorry."
He noticed Riker at the bar and confronted him. "How could you just let that Star Chamber strip them of their ranks!"
Riker, frustrated (and boldened by his second drink), stood up. He towered over Kim.
"If I antagonized him further," Riker barked, "we'd all be in the brig right now! He gave me no choice! If I refused the advocacy role, the admiral would have foisted one of his flunkies on them. That would be tantamount to a guilty verdict for your shipmates!"
Riker quickly downed what was left of his third drink. "So you will excuse me, Ensign, if I don't give a damn how you think I handled today's events!"
Humbled, both Paris and Kim gave the commander some space. "I'm sorry, Commander," Kim apologized. "Me too," Paris stated. "It's just that we were so glad to be home at last, only to find out that the Starfleet we once knew is so --"
"Corrupt," Riker muttered. "On the surface, the admirals pat us on the back. 'Good job, son' they'd tell us. But behind closed doors ... inside the strategy rooms of Admiral Hall, the Observations Section deep within Starfleet Security ... there are those who are defiling everything we believe in."
"So what can we do?" Kim wondered, "We're so low on the chain of command that we risk losing our own uniforms if we object."
Riker nodded in agreement. "Don't do anything on your own, alright? Right now, anything rash would be too dangerous. Talk to Lt. Cmdr. Tuvok. He knows Starfleet Intelligence inside-out."
He glanced warily at the other officers, then spoke quietly. "I assume Tuvok is now acting Number One of the Voyager?"
"As of tonight, yeah," Paris remarked.
"Tell Tuvok to co-ordinate with Data -- he's acting captain of the Enterprise," Riker revealed, as he waved away another drink. "I've been relieved of my duties until this inquiry is over. Don't use Starfleet subspace communications. I'm sure they're tapped."
"I could work on some encryption protocols," Kim hushed, "run it by Laforge."
Two admirals entered the Officers' Club. The conspirators huddled against the bar.
"You're all taking risks," Riker warned. "If Ravvik suspected something awry, he'll destroy you."
"We just lost our executive officer and engineering chief," Paris muttered, "how much worse can it get for us?"
"Janeway's untouchable," Riker commented, "The return of the Voyager is a formidable feather in her cap. The militants in the Admiralty won't dare move against her now. I know there are plenty of half- truths and rumours about her. One thing's clear ... she's moving up. That's your trump card -- if it materializes. Play it cool. Keep your cards close to your vest."
"If only Capt. Picard were here," Kim hoped -- still starry-eyed over meeting the living legend.
"I wish he were here too," Riker said. Paris motioned that he was returning to the Officers' Quarters, where Torres had sought refuge. Kim nodded to Riker, then left the club in the opposite direction.
Riker finished a glass of water, waited a few minutes, then left the club. As he walked across the compound, he spotted a familiar face.
Jellico. Admiral Jellico -- who had been raised to the Admiralty a year ago. Riker detested the man's abrasive command style. Yet, he was efficient and capable.
He couldn't tell if the admiral was part of the 'diplomat' faction, who wanted to maintain the status quo and avoid reckless campaigns ... or the 'cavalry' faction, who wanted a militaristic Starfleet who would defend Federation's frontiers by force, subterfuge, and god knows what else.
Riker acknowledged the admiral. "Good evening, Admiral."
The admiral glanced nervously around. No one was within earshot. He pulled Riker off the path, and behind a shuttle bay gatehouse.
"Listen carefully," Jellico dictated silently. "Be careful."
Riker gasped, but Jellico continued. "Don't talk, Riker. Listen. You're a smart man. You know what's going on behind the scenes."
"Behind the medal ceremonies and diplomatic soirees?" Riker joked.
"That's why I don't like you, Will," Jellico stated. "This is no time for fratboy taunts. You know about the factional in-fighting. So does Picard. Tell me ... where do you stand?"
"Picard speaks for the crew of the Enterprise," Riker insisted. "So he speaks for me."
Jellico was annoyed by Riker's cryptic responses. "Don't play coy with me! It's a time of flux in Starfleet Command. A time when men of conviction should act. Must act. The Picards and Janeways of the fleet may think their positions are shielded from what's going on. That's naive. And dangerous."
"Why are you telling me all this, Admiral?" Riker smiled, hiding the real panic that had stabbed into his stomach.
Jellico glanced at the flag of Starfleet atop the shuttle bay. "Indecision is going to rip the fleet apart. As the fleet falls, so goes the Federation." He paused, as if to summon all his strength.
"Now is your time Cmdr. Riker," Jellico repeated, "So I ask you again ... where do you stand?"
Riker stared at Jellico. He couldn't read the man.
Riker enjoyed the clarity of command aboard a starship. When you give an order, it is done. This world -- a world of implied threats, countermanded field commissions, hushed meetings behind shuttle bays - - scared him. It was a shadowy realm of shifting alliances, like the tectonic plates of newborn planets. Jellico was now inviting him to play that game.
A game with no rules.
I'm not going to play that game, he thought.
"I stand for the Federation," Riker declared. "For what it represents. What it could become. I believe Starfleet answers to the Federation -- not the other way around. I don't believe in playing games with its values for the sake of short-term, strategic advantage. If that makes me less of an officer in some people's eyes, I can live with that."
Jellico grinned. Again, Riker could not tell if Jellico was pleased with his reply. Or relishing the fact that Riker had just ruined his career.
"That's all I wanted to know," Jellico stated dispassionnately. "The Admiralty is holding a closed-door session at Starfleet Command. Tonight. The Enterprise is still in orbit?"
Riker seemed puzzled. "Yes, she is." Jellico returned to the pathway, towards Starfleet Command.
"And where do you stand, Jellico?" Riker inquired, as he returned to the pathway. "Diplomat or Cavalry?"
Jellico's mood soured. "You forget your place, Commander. I don't owe you an answer."
As he watched the admiral walk into the descending dusk, Riker glanced nervously around. A few officers were scattered throughout the compound. They didn't notice the secret conference he just had with a powerful admiral.
Riker rushed to the Officers' Quarters. He was already burdened with defending Torres and Chakotay against treason charges.
Tonight, he was also conscripted into a larger, dirtier war.
Ensign Kim was right, he frowned. If only Picard were here ...
TO BE CONTINUED SOON
TIMELINE: Shortly after the arrival of Voyager on Earth.
SUMMARY: After two weeks filled with celebrations in honour of the returning crew of the Voyager, there is unsettled business in the halls of Starfleet. The dreaded Maquis Inquiry, designed by militant members of Starfleet Intelligence to weed out 'traitors' in the Federation, has entered its second straight year. The tale begin in the vast compound of Starfleet Command, San Francisco ...
[Starfleet Intelligence HQ, hearing room 2B]
The security officer outside the hearing room stood at attention as Cmdr. Chakotay and Lt. Torres approached. The steel doors slid open.
"Do you have any idea why we were summoned here?" Torres wondered.
"Your guess is as good as mine," Chakotay replied. "Capt. Janeway simply told me that the powers-that-be in Starfleet Intelligence insisted that we report here."
Torres seemed puzzled. "We've been here well over two weeks! Why wait until now to summon us?"
A lieutenant directed them to a steel committee table. When they took their seats, Chakotay leaned towards his half-Klingon friend.
"When we were the darlings of the Federation," he whispered, "feted by the Admiralty and the ambassadors, it probably would be impolitic to call us in for a briefing."
The doors behind them swished open. Cmdr. Riker was hastily adjusting his uniform.
"Commander?" Torres blurted out.
"Do you know why we were summoned here so soon?" Riker wondered. "I was helping Laforge with upgrades to the Enterprise's photon torpedo bays: apparently an outbreak of the flu has kept most of our engineering crews in bed. With Picard on extended leave, I've had to take on matters of protocol normally left to the captain. My plate's full enough already."
"Then you don't know why they called you here?" Chakotay asked.
"I was ordered here," Riker shrugged, "by the Admiralty." He nodded towards the lieutenant who had ushered them to their seats. "Excuse me, lieutenant. Do you know what this meeting is about?"
"I don't know either," the lieutenant remarked. "but I guess Admiral Ravvik will explain things when he arrives."
Riker's eyes widened in shock, as he let out a frustrated sigh.
"You know of this Ravvik?" Chakotay mumbled.
Riker leaned towards the Voyager shipmates. "Two years ago, there was a political tug-of-war between rival camps in the Intelligence hierarchy. There were those who wanted to consolidate our gains: they were called the 'diplomats' because they wanted to rely on negotiations and treaties to secure the Federation's interests ..."
"I suppose there were those who didn't like that," Torres replied.
"Ravvik was a Starfleet captain, a Vulcan, who had caught the attention of the Intelligence hierarchy," Riker continued, "He was promoted to the Admiralty, and he immediately took a more aggressive approach and surrounded himself with members of the 'cavalry' faction."
"Cavalry?" Chakotay snickered.
"This faction grew weary of negotiating and sought more -- persuasive -- methods of achieving Federation goals," Riker mentioned. "That new shipyard in Oakland? It was his idea. Some say he plans to double the size of the fleet in five years. Word to the wise: Ravvik is not a man to cross."
"I don't think I like the sound of this meeting," Torres sulked in her chair.
The door swished open again. Admiral Ravvik, who appeared to be around 40 years old, entered. "All rise," the lieutenant announced. The three officers quickly stood at attention.
"At ease, officers," Ravvik replied. "You may be seated." For several minutes, there was silence as the admiral briefly reviewed data pads. He studied them meticulously. Chakotay coughed uncomfortably in his seat. Once in a while, the beep of a data pad button would break the silence. Torres sipped at a glass of water and glanced at Riker, who stared blankly at the ceiling lights.
"Cmdr. Riker of the USS Enterprise," Ravvik spoke, "I've often heard of you, but I've not had the pleasure of meeting you. Your captain speaks highly of you."
"Thank you, sir," Riker answered.
"I thank you for your work on the Counter-Insurgency Project," Ravvik stated.
Chakotay raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"I was actually a substitute," Riker explained, "Worf's name was forwarded to Starfleet Intelligence, but by that time he was on the frontlines of the Dominion War."
"You are much too humble, Commander," Ravvik stated. "Your insights will help us react to trouble spots throughout the Federation. In fact, your work on the CI Project qualifies you to be here. As an advocate."
"An advocate?" Riker stood up, stunned by the news. "For what purpose?"
Ravvik quietly tapped his data pads. Minutes of silence.
"Admiral?" Riker demanded.
Ravvik focused his gaze on the Voyager officers, ignoring Riker's question. "Cmdr. Chakotay, Lt. B'Elanna Torres. You were granted field commissions aboard the Voyager shortly after the ship disappeared from the Badlands seven years ago, is that correct?"
"Yes, sir," Chakotay replied. He looked over to Torres, who suddenly sensed that something was wrong.
"According to Intelligence Regulation 967, passed by the Intelligence Committee six months ago: 'A Starship captain cannot grant field commissions to those who have not recanted their loyalties to parties deemed hostile to the Federation'.
"I don't believe this!" Riker exclaimed. "You mean to say this ... is the Maquis Inquiry!" He shook his head in disgust. "No, no, I won't be a party to this. These are Starfleet officers, not Maquis terrorists!"
Ravvik exhaled, seemingly indifferent to Riker's outburst. "The Maquis Inquiry is designed to provide Starfleet with the ability to seek out elements within our ranks that may pose a threat to the security of the Federation."
He tapped a data pad, then handed it to the lieutenant. "Take this to the Admiralty." The lieutenant nodded, then left the room.
Riker appeared to be ready to begin another tirade, but Ravvik held up a hand to stop him.
"The Starfleet Code of Discipline does not apply to them," Ravvik muttered, "since -- as of this moment -- they are no longer Starfleet officers." He looked again at Torres and Chakotay. "I have reviewed your field commissions. And have revoked them."
"Starfleet is not a police state!" Riker declared. "Chakotay, Torres, we're leaving. Don't give this witch trial the dignity of any testimony."
"Walk out that door, Cmdr. Riker," Ravvik replied, "and I will hold you in contempt of this inquiry. You can bid your duties on the Enterprise farewell if it comes to that. I have appointed you as their advocate. You will do your job -- and do it well." Riker could barely contain his anger. Many officers had lost their careers because they had sympathized with the Maquis' activities in the Badlands. Now, two members of the Voyager's crew were facing the same danger.
Ravvik glanced briefly at Riker. "If you prefer, I will appoint one of my subordinates to stand in your place."
Riker traded excited whispers with Chakotay and Torres. What choice did they have?
"I will accept's the advocate's role," Riker replied. "But I will need time to continue my duties aboard the Enterprise."
"That won't be necessary," Ravvik commented. "Lt.-Cmdr. Data will assume your role as acting captain until the end of proceedings. I suggest you use the extra time to prepare your clients' defense."
"How can I plan a defense," Riker barked angrily, "when I don't even know what the charges are?"
Ravvik's even-tempered mood changed, as he impatiently sighed. "They are Maquis. The charges are conspiracy to commit acts against the Federation, terrorism, sabotage and treason. If your clients are found guilty of treason, rest assured they will never wear a Starfleet uniform again."
"And if I succeed?" Riker challenged.
Ravvik paused, as if that possibility was absurd. "Then their field commissions will be restored. Of course, we can end this inquiry today -- if the former commander and lieutenant are prepared to sign this recantation." He crossed the committee room and presented a data tablet to Torres and Chakotay.
Torres grabbed the tablet and read it, as Chakotay looked over her shoulder.
"I so declare ... reject the political objectives as rebellious ... consider Maquis activities as treasonous in intent ..." Torres mumbled through the document. She tossed the tablet on the ground.
"My friends were massacred when the Federation gave their concessions to Cardassia!" she growled. "I will not let you disgrace their memory by forcing me to call everything we believed in -- fought for -- as a lie!"
Ravvik picked up the document. "So be it. Proceedings commence at 0900 hours tomorrow."
He began to return to his desk, then stopped. "Please hand over your communicators and rank insignia to Cmdr. Riker. You are no longer Starfleet officers entitled to the privileges of that uniform."
Torres slammed her communicator on the table, ripped the rank pips from her collar and flung them on the floor. She stormed out of the room.
"B'Elanna!" Chakotay hollered, to no avail. He slowly removed his communicator, then carefully removed his rank insignia.
"I had hoped that my field commission would be confirmed," Chakotay pouted, "because I thought I had earned it."
"I'll see you at the mess hall at 0800 tomorrow," Riker mentioned to Chakotay, "Commander." He made sure the admiral heard him address Chakotay by rank.
When he picked up Torres' rank pips, Riker glared at Ravvik. "I intend to inform Capt. Picard of this. As you know, he opposed the Admiralty's adoption of these new intelligence directives. Directives not sanctioned by the Federation Council."
"You'll learn that the captain of the Enterprise does not hold the degree of influence in the Council that he once did," Ravvik warned. "Be mindful of that, Commander, lest your own career suffers because of it."
Half an hour later, Riker returned to the Officers' Club.
"Whisky, straight up," Riker told the bartender. In the corner, he saw Lt. Tom Paris sulking alone. Paris spotted Riker, then got up and marched towards the bar.
"What the hell just happened at Intelligence HQ?" he demanded.
"The rumours are true," Riker muttered between sips. "The Maquis Inquiry for the Protection of the Federation is alive and well. They're not going to rest until every last Maquis sympathizer, brigade commander and political activist is swept away from Starfleet."
"Chakotay's spoken to Janeway," Paris noted, "and I've filed a formal complaint with Admiral Paris. Janeway intends to speak with Federation councillors tonight. I assume you've told Picard?"
Riker sighed. "Admiral Ravvik has let it be known -- in no uncertain terms -- that no amount of political horse-trading will derail his goal. He already has their commissions. What he wants is to destroy their reputations."
Ensign Kim burst into the Officers' Club. "Tom, I just heard. I'm so sorry."
He noticed Riker at the bar and confronted him. "How could you just let that Star Chamber strip them of their ranks!"
Riker, frustrated (and boldened by his second drink), stood up. He towered over Kim.
"If I antagonized him further," Riker barked, "we'd all be in the brig right now! He gave me no choice! If I refused the advocacy role, the admiral would have foisted one of his flunkies on them. That would be tantamount to a guilty verdict for your shipmates!"
Riker quickly downed what was left of his third drink. "So you will excuse me, Ensign, if I don't give a damn how you think I handled today's events!"
Humbled, both Paris and Kim gave the commander some space. "I'm sorry, Commander," Kim apologized. "Me too," Paris stated. "It's just that we were so glad to be home at last, only to find out that the Starfleet we once knew is so --"
"Corrupt," Riker muttered. "On the surface, the admirals pat us on the back. 'Good job, son' they'd tell us. But behind closed doors ... inside the strategy rooms of Admiral Hall, the Observations Section deep within Starfleet Security ... there are those who are defiling everything we believe in."
"So what can we do?" Kim wondered, "We're so low on the chain of command that we risk losing our own uniforms if we object."
Riker nodded in agreement. "Don't do anything on your own, alright? Right now, anything rash would be too dangerous. Talk to Lt. Cmdr. Tuvok. He knows Starfleet Intelligence inside-out."
He glanced warily at the other officers, then spoke quietly. "I assume Tuvok is now acting Number One of the Voyager?"
"As of tonight, yeah," Paris remarked.
"Tell Tuvok to co-ordinate with Data -- he's acting captain of the Enterprise," Riker revealed, as he waved away another drink. "I've been relieved of my duties until this inquiry is over. Don't use Starfleet subspace communications. I'm sure they're tapped."
"I could work on some encryption protocols," Kim hushed, "run it by Laforge."
Two admirals entered the Officers' Club. The conspirators huddled against the bar.
"You're all taking risks," Riker warned. "If Ravvik suspected something awry, he'll destroy you."
"We just lost our executive officer and engineering chief," Paris muttered, "how much worse can it get for us?"
"Janeway's untouchable," Riker commented, "The return of the Voyager is a formidable feather in her cap. The militants in the Admiralty won't dare move against her now. I know there are plenty of half- truths and rumours about her. One thing's clear ... she's moving up. That's your trump card -- if it materializes. Play it cool. Keep your cards close to your vest."
"If only Capt. Picard were here," Kim hoped -- still starry-eyed over meeting the living legend.
"I wish he were here too," Riker said. Paris motioned that he was returning to the Officers' Quarters, where Torres had sought refuge. Kim nodded to Riker, then left the club in the opposite direction.
Riker finished a glass of water, waited a few minutes, then left the club. As he walked across the compound, he spotted a familiar face.
Jellico. Admiral Jellico -- who had been raised to the Admiralty a year ago. Riker detested the man's abrasive command style. Yet, he was efficient and capable.
He couldn't tell if the admiral was part of the 'diplomat' faction, who wanted to maintain the status quo and avoid reckless campaigns ... or the 'cavalry' faction, who wanted a militaristic Starfleet who would defend Federation's frontiers by force, subterfuge, and god knows what else.
Riker acknowledged the admiral. "Good evening, Admiral."
The admiral glanced nervously around. No one was within earshot. He pulled Riker off the path, and behind a shuttle bay gatehouse.
"Listen carefully," Jellico dictated silently. "Be careful."
Riker gasped, but Jellico continued. "Don't talk, Riker. Listen. You're a smart man. You know what's going on behind the scenes."
"Behind the medal ceremonies and diplomatic soirees?" Riker joked.
"That's why I don't like you, Will," Jellico stated. "This is no time for fratboy taunts. You know about the factional in-fighting. So does Picard. Tell me ... where do you stand?"
"Picard speaks for the crew of the Enterprise," Riker insisted. "So he speaks for me."
Jellico was annoyed by Riker's cryptic responses. "Don't play coy with me! It's a time of flux in Starfleet Command. A time when men of conviction should act. Must act. The Picards and Janeways of the fleet may think their positions are shielded from what's going on. That's naive. And dangerous."
"Why are you telling me all this, Admiral?" Riker smiled, hiding the real panic that had stabbed into his stomach.
Jellico glanced at the flag of Starfleet atop the shuttle bay. "Indecision is going to rip the fleet apart. As the fleet falls, so goes the Federation." He paused, as if to summon all his strength.
"Now is your time Cmdr. Riker," Jellico repeated, "So I ask you again ... where do you stand?"
Riker stared at Jellico. He couldn't read the man.
Riker enjoyed the clarity of command aboard a starship. When you give an order, it is done. This world -- a world of implied threats, countermanded field commissions, hushed meetings behind shuttle bays - - scared him. It was a shadowy realm of shifting alliances, like the tectonic plates of newborn planets. Jellico was now inviting him to play that game.
A game with no rules.
I'm not going to play that game, he thought.
"I stand for the Federation," Riker declared. "For what it represents. What it could become. I believe Starfleet answers to the Federation -- not the other way around. I don't believe in playing games with its values for the sake of short-term, strategic advantage. If that makes me less of an officer in some people's eyes, I can live with that."
Jellico grinned. Again, Riker could not tell if Jellico was pleased with his reply. Or relishing the fact that Riker had just ruined his career.
"That's all I wanted to know," Jellico stated dispassionnately. "The Admiralty is holding a closed-door session at Starfleet Command. Tonight. The Enterprise is still in orbit?"
Riker seemed puzzled. "Yes, she is." Jellico returned to the pathway, towards Starfleet Command.
"And where do you stand, Jellico?" Riker inquired, as he returned to the pathway. "Diplomat or Cavalry?"
Jellico's mood soured. "You forget your place, Commander. I don't owe you an answer."
As he watched the admiral walk into the descending dusk, Riker glanced nervously around. A few officers were scattered throughout the compound. They didn't notice the secret conference he just had with a powerful admiral.
Riker rushed to the Officers' Quarters. He was already burdened with defending Torres and Chakotay against treason charges.
Tonight, he was also conscripted into a larger, dirtier war.
Ensign Kim was right, he frowned. If only Picard were here ...
TO BE CONTINUED SOON