Chapter Three
If this gets out.
"Admiral?" The intercom on his desk spoke quietly.
"What is it, Tim?" Forrest did not look up from the report he was reading on activities in the Martian Mining colony in the southern hemisphere.
"Mr. Ken Young and Ms. Helen Marin from the U.E.S.P.A. to see you?" His tone made clear to the older man that the pair had not been expected. Tim was right, they didn't have an appointment, but considering the visit he had had nine hours ago from the Vulcan Ambassador, they weren't unexpected.
Of course, it would have been fair to let his Aide in on his suspicions, but concerns about the construction of the NX-02 Starship Columbia, already three months behind schedule, had taken up most of his attention, which led to the ore supplies from Mars. Of course, it was too late to worry about that now.
It was also nearly 1800, but he had long ago given up 'punching a clock'. That had gone with the advent of the silver bands on the sleeves of his black uniform. Looking up, he was sorely tempted to have Tim tell them to go away. "Send them in," he said with a mental shrug. Might as well get this over with so he could get back to his real work.
x
The man and woman were both in their mid to late 50's and Forrest knew them well. By the time he had heard their names he knew there was no hope. Two more humorless people he had never known. Both were dark and severe, reminding him more of a Puritan from the 17th century and a severe 'school marm', even if neither bore any physical resemblance to these archetypes. No, it was more in their souls. Outwardly, they looked just like anyone else, even somewhat nondescript. Inwardly, they lacked something even the Vulcans had; a spirit, even if it was forcibly restrained. In them it seemed to be simply absent.
He had often thought that those involved in the exploration of space should have the wonder of discovery surging in their veins. They should, at least, be active or retired explorers. These two…. He doubted anything surged in their veins; and the most either of them had ever explored was an office.
But the very diversity that gave the agency its strength accounted for weaknesses like these, those who had to be bourn if progress was to be made. Yet sometimes Forrest wondered if progress would be just a little faster, or more dynamic, if there were fewer of these.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" This, he realized, was starting to become a stock phrase with him when he found the 'pleasure' to be dubious or outright nonexistent. But it was hardly politic to tell them 'I know what you've come for; now go away'.
"Thank you for seeing us." Ms. Marin said with a small smile. Forrest wondered just how small a smile could get and still be a widening of the lips. He had a feeling he was going to find out.
"Not at all," Forrest replied, meaning every word of the social amenity. "Always interesting to see my colleagues from UESPA." He tried not to hit the stress on the 'interesting' too strongly, but it was hard. He derived the tiniest bit of satisfaction from the small cringe the woman gave at the 'common man's' use of the Agency as a noun rather than an abbreviation.
"It has come to our attention that there is a matter of particular … ahem …concern." Ken Young began.
'Oh, what indeed?' Forrest thought. 'Do I get three guesses? Do the first two count?' "Yes?"
"Well now, in reviewing the reports sent to us by one of our Starships, err…"
'Oh, for the love of God, how many Starships have we got?' The answer, presently, was one and two-thirds.
"The, er, Enterprise."
"Yes, she's one of ours." Forrest tried to keep his tone moderate. He didn't want it to seem like he was laughing at the man … too much.
"Admiral," Marin cut in, impatiently, "are you aware that the Captain of the Enterprise has bought a slave girl?"
x
Forrest's elbows, propped on the arms of his chair, fell off and he was sure his face, in the resulting unguarded instant, must have shown the surprise he felt. It was, however, not at the news but at the outlandish presentation of the 'fact'. 'Never let it be said that a Vulcan cannot be topped for indiscretion.'
In the moment before he recovered himself, there was time for Young to note: "You seem shocked, Admiral. Were you not aware of what is going on aboard one of your own ships?"
"Mr. Young, it is not that which surprises me, but at the gross misinterpretation which accompanies it. Ms. Marin, I shall not ask for what reason you refer to Ms. Anlor as a 'slave girl', because up to a month or so ago she was indeed that. But what leads you to believe that she continues in the capacity of a slave?"
"Well…" she began, knowing she couldn't maintain the stand she'd taken without seeming to be unaware of the same reports to which she was referring. "Not that she's a slave per se. Just that she…."
"Yes?"
"Well, public opinion on the subject–"
"Excuse me!" he snapped, sitting forward so suddenly both officials flinched. "Reports from our ships to Starfleet Command are not public knowledge. Where on proper occasion we do release scientific information to the proper scientific facilities, and things of particular note to the press, the ongoing matter of Ms. Anlor is not one of those things. To what 'public opinion' do you refer?"
"Well, I…."
"Yes?"
"I am just saying, if this gets out…"
"IF Starfleet chooses to release to the media the existence of Ms. Anlor, I assure you it will not be as a slave – former slave – but as a representative of the world of Aura. Little or no information of a personal nature will be released, in keeping with Starfleet policy, and presently none is being released because we do not have complete information ourselves. We have no intention to speak, prematurely, to the press. Do you?"
"No. Well, I– That is– We were concerned, that's all, about what the public would think of one of our Starships… dealing in..." If Forrest's eyes were phase cannons he would have fired both at the woman.
x
"Before sending you," Forrest began after he had gained sufficient silence, "didn't the Agency review all the reports in detail?"
"Well," Young began, "they didn't exactly send us."
"Didn't exactly? What does that mean?"
"Well," Marin began, "we felt we should make our concerns known to…." It was the second time Forrest's phase cannons blasted a salvo at the woman.
"I see. Well, now that you have made your concerns known to me, I bid you both a good evening."