A Time for War, a Time for Peace - Keith R. A. DeCandido [63]
“It’s not like I had a choice,” she said. “Captain told us to be at your disposal while you were here.”
“And you always follow orders, don’t you, Commander?”
Vale pulled out the chair opposite Genestra’s and sat in it. The gas giant framed her head like a halo. “Yes, I do, Mr. Genestra. I also recognize transparent interrogation techniques designed to get a rise out of me.”
The self-satisfaction at the mention of her promotion faded, replaced with a general resentment that Genestra recognized from his previous interviews with Vale—indeed, with most of the crew, but it was more intense in the security chief for some reason.
“I wish to speak with you about your promotion, actually.”
Suspicion. Confusion. “What does my promotion have to do with your inspection?”
“It’s a security concern, Commander. You see, ever since your promotion, I’ve been detecting a sense of pride—and, more to the point, a sense of self-justification and vindication.”
Anger. Vale leaned forward in her chair. “Okay, now you’re getting a rise out of me. What the hell are you doing poking around in my head?”
“I’m not poking, Commander.” Genestra was appalled at the suggestion. He gave her a small smile. “Believe me, I would not have been able to work for the admiralty all these years if I had shown any proclivity for such things.”
“Oh, I don’t know, I’ve met some admirals in my time who’d love having someone around who could do that.”
Genestra frowned. “Such as who?”
“Nobody who’s still in Starfleet,” Vale said, but Genestra saw a very clear image of Admiral Nakamura in her thoughts.
He sighed. For all his life, Genestra had worked not to pry into people’s minds beyond the simplest surface thoughts—nothing that couldn’t be inferred from speech or body language by someone who was well enough trained. He saw himself as a supplement, nothing more. To even read as much as the impression of Nakamura in Vale’s mind meant that the thought was so prominent as to be impossible to screen out.
“We’re getting off topic.”
“No we’re not,” Vale said, “we’re talking about you reading my mind.”
“I’m not reading your mind,” Genestra said firmly. “As I said, I am basing this on impressions I’ve received. If I was simply reading your mind, as you accuse, I would not have any need to interview you, I’d simply report my findings to Captain Go. But I do not have findings, Commander, I have impressions. Now I can confirm my suspicions based on these impressions one of two ways. One is to in fact read your mind, which I most emphatically will not do. The other is to question you. So here we are.”
Resignation. Vale leaned back, setting her hands in her lap. “Fine. Question me. What about feeling proud and justified and vindicated raises red flags?”
“It’s the vindication more than anything, Commander—it’s almost as if you feel you’ve gotten away with doing something wrong.”
More anger. “I haven’t ‘gotten away’ with anything.”
“But you do feel that you’ve done something wrong.” Genestra deliberately did not phrase it as a question.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“I should think that would be obvious, especially considering the losses your security division has taken over the past year.” He consulted his padd. “At the Dokaalan colony you lost a few guards in rescue operations, then a few more at Delta Sigma IV, and the figure skyrocketed at Tezwa.”
Her rage seethed and festered. “Mr. Genestra, we’ve covered all this.”
“We’ve covered the facts, but what interests me now is what’s behind those facts.” He set the padd down. “Commander, do you feel that you could have done something different to prevent the deaths of Aiken, Razka, Melorr, Jeloq, Nikros, Fillion, Maxson, Carmo—”
Now the anger grew white-hot. Vale stood. “What the hell kind of a question is that? And I do not need you to list their names, thank you, I’m fully aware of who and how many people died on my watch.”
“Sit down, Commander.”
“No, sir, I think I’ll stand, because right now I’d rather look down on you.” She all but kicked the chair back and started