Enigma - Michael Jan Friedman [6]
His only mistake had been his choice of birthdate. In the admiral’s estimate, Picard was too young to be a captain, too inexperienced, too green.
“And that,” said McAteer, looking as if he were allowing himself to be dragged into unplanned but all-too-necessary territory, “is also why I have scheduled a hearing to judge your competence as a Starfleet captain.”
Picard felt his cheeks suffuse with blood. “My competence?” he echoed, giving the word an ironic spin. “And in what respect have I been incompetent?”
Without a second’s hesitation, the admiral reeled off a list of instances. Bad decisions, he called them, constructed on the uncertain ground of bad judgment.
And they all had to do with the Nuyyad, the conqueror species with whom the Stargazer had clashed on the other side of the galactic barrier. Picard had barely taken the reins of command at the time, assuming the place of his dead captain as the enemy slashed away at the Stargazer.
But there was no mention of mitigating circumstances, no nod to the novelty of the situation. All McAteer cared to talk about were the specific moves Picard had made.
Taken out of context, each one made the captain sound more careless and devoid of judgment than the one before it. But every one of them had been made for a good reason.
Picard said so.
“Those who serve with you disagree,” said the admiral.
Picard was skeptical about that claim, to say the least. He couldn’t imagine that Ben Zoma or Wu had ever spoken to McAteer behind his back. Then who…?
The admiral’s smile deepened. “Former colleagues, to be precise. Commander Leach, for instance—Commander Ben Zoma’s predecessor as first officer of the Stargazer. He provided me with some rather valuable insights into your activities as the Stargazer’s second officer. Then there was Ensign Joe Caber—”
The captain couldn’t help but interrupt. “Ensign Caber was not Starfleet material, as my report on the reason for his transfer clearly indicated.”
“I read it,” said McAteer. “You said he was guilty of bigotry toward one of your other crewmen.”
“Bigotry that quickly accelerated into unwarranted violence.”
“So you said in your report,” the admiral noted. “But Ensign Caber had a different take on his stay here.”
Why am I not surprised? Caber, the son of a highly regarded Starfleet admiral, had suggested as he left the Stargazer that the matter of his dismissal would not be resolved to Picard’s satisfaction.
“As you might expect,” said McAteer, “Ensign Caber’s father has taken a personal interest in your actions. He has asked to be one of the admirals who hear the charges against you.”
Perfect, thought the captain.
Clearly, McAteer had gone to a great deal of trouble to build and fortify his position. He wasn’t going to stop at anything to see Picard relieved of his command.
The admiral sighed audibly. “I hope you know I don’t like doing this. I don’t enjoy raking people over the coals.”
Again, Picard bit his lip. Thanks to one of his friends in Starfleet, he knew that McAteer was lying. He had it in for Picard ever since Admiral Mehdi placed the twenty-eight-year old in command of the Stargazer.
“Of course,” the admiral added in a repulsively avuncular way, “you could simply step down. That would save everyone a lot of trouble—you in particular.”
Picard felt his teeth grind together. You would like me to think so, wouldn’t you?
“I appreciate the offer,” he forced himself to say, “but frankly, I do not intend to give up my command without a fight.” He speared McAteer with his gaze. “I ask you—what self-respecting captain would?”
The admiral’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “As you wish, Picard.” He got up and straightened his jacket. “If you happen to change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“Indeed,” said the captain.
Chapter Three
BEN ZOMA HAD SELDOM seen his friend Picard look so red-faced with subdued anger. He couldn’t see the captain’s hands, but he imagined that Picard’s knuckles were white as they grasped the rests of his