Equinox - Diane Carey [44]
A can of worms. She determined not to get into a wrangle with him over the definition of "justifiable."
That was the trick word, the one they both knew was meant to offer captains interpretive flexibility. She'd lose that argument.
The only answer was not to budge, and not to argue.
"I doubt that protocol covers mass murder," she accused.
Ransom ground his teeth. "In my judgment it does."
"Unacceptable."
His small eyes flared coldly. "We had nothing! My ship was in pieces!"
Taken aback by his intensity, Janeway said nothing. There was no good way to handle this.
Without her prodding he got a grip on his meltdown. "Our dilithium was gone," he suffered. "We were running on thrusters. We hadn't eaten in sixteen days! We had just enough power left to enter orbit of an M-class planet. Lucky for us, the inhabitants were generous... The Ankari... they provided us with a few supplies. They even performed one of their 'sacred rituals' to invoke 'spirits of good fortune from another realm.' To bless our journey."
Bitterness tainted his words, but Janeway could still see no true regret, no bending toward the idea that he had broken a moral code and a legal one.
"But these weren't spirits," Ransom went on. "They were nucleogenic life forms. Our scans revealed that they were emitting high levels of antimatter. So we managed to obtain one of the devices and constructed a containment chamber that would prevent the life form from vanishing so quickly. But something went wrong. It thrashed around and started to vitrify. We tried to
send it back, but we couldn't reverse the flow through the device's fissure." For the first time, his eyes grew shaded with sorrow. "We examined the remains and discovered that the enhancement properties were still present."
Now he looked up at her, and the challenge returned, now glazed with harsh reality.
"It was already dead! What would you have done!"
A perfectly legitimate challenge. Janeway sat with her chin tucked, fuming, and would not answer. She dared not sympathize or she would be condoning his interpretation. There were things she would have to keep on her side. Right now, silence was the tool. She had a new role to play that did not include simply being another captain.
"We traveled over ten thousand light-years in less than two weeks." Ransom sounded more defeated now, defiance and surrender flashing back and forth. "We'd found our salvation! How could we ignore it!"
"By adhering to the oath you took as Starfleet officers," she told him icily. 'To seek out life. Not destroy it."
"It's easy to cling to 'principles' when you're standing on a vessel with its bulkheads intact, manned by a crew that's not starving!"
"It's never easy," Janeway countered, suddenly thinking of Chakotay. Her voice was firm, rough, like a recording. "But if we turn our backs on those principles we stop being human. I'm putting an end to your experiments. And you are hereby relieved of your command. You and your crew will be confined to quarters."
She nodded to her guards, who approached to escort Ransom out.
"Please," Ransom begged, "show them leniency. They were only following my orders."
"Their mistake."
Another hot potato. How far should a crew go? She expected orders to be followed too.
Bitter and trembling, obviously angry at either her or himself, Ransom let the guards usher him toward the door. As the corridor panel opened, he turned back to her.
"It's a long way home, Captain," he warned.
Lips pressed tight, jaw aching, Janeway watched the door sweep shut, separating her from the ghastly duty she now found dumped in her lap. What was it like when your feet were on fire?
Had that last sentence been a threat? Or was he warning her that she was looking at a future fractal of herself, her own command?
Stiff as an old woman, she pushed up from her chair. Every bone in her legs clicked as if carrying on the argument