Last Full Measure - Michael A. Martin [113]
“I’m ready now, sir,” Reed said.
Mayweather nodded. “Me, too, sir. Just give the word.”
Archer held up both hands in a slow down gesture. “All the fine details can wait until tomorrow morning, after everybody’s had a good night’s sleep.” The captain paused, chuckling as though he’d just made an unintentional joke; Reed surmised that a good night’s sleep wasn’t a terribly realistic prospect for a man as weighted down with responsibility as Jonathan Archer.
“All three of us have just returned from separate integrated Starfleet-MACO operations,” Archer continued. “One of those missions I know pretty intimately, since I was there.” He glanced sadly at Reed, then turned to regard Mayweather. “And I gather from what you’ve told me so far that your team met with somewhat more success than ours did.”
As long as one doesn’t measure success solely in terms of lives expended, Reed thought, the glumness of the memorial service settling once again on his soul.
“Well, we did manage to blow up the Xindi fuel depot and mining facility we discovered,” Mayweather said, though he didn’t sound the least bit boastful.
“Not to mention a Xindi warship,” Archer said, as though trying to draw Mayweather out to accept a bit of well-earned praise.
Not yet having had the opportunity to compare post-mission notes with anyone who had partaken in the other shuttlepod mission, Reed was both surprised and impressed by what he’d just heard. “Congratulations, Ensign,” he said. “Well done.”
“We were very lucky,” the pilot said quietly, nodding. The ensign’s dour expression made it clear that he considered Private Colin Eby to have been a good deal less lucky than himself. “And I really don’t think I deserve all that much back-patting—at least not for the military part of the mission. In fact, I was against tackling the depot. I even tried to talk the MACOs out of it.”
“Why?” Reed wanted to know, curious.
“Because it’s generally a bad idea for a junior officer to go way past the intent behind his orders, sir. Sub-Commander T’Pol wanted us to follow the Xindi fuel isotope trail to its source, reconnoiter, and return to Enterprise with whatever intelligence we’d gathered. I think that’s the course of action she would have considered ‘appropriate, prudent, and logical,’ especially since our team was working without any backup.”
“I take it that Corporal Chang overruled your interpretation of T’Pol’s orders,” Archer said.
“You might say that, sir. And I can’t say I was very happy about it, either.”
“And how do you feel about it in retrospect?” Archer asked.
Mayweather’s face took on a thoughtful cast. “I guess there’s no arguing with results, sir. Unless you happen to be Private Eby, that is, or a member of his family. If it had been up to me, I’m not sure I would have traded Eby’s life for destroying that fuel depot, or that Xindi ship. Of course, Chang didn’t leave very much of the mission up to me. And by the time the Xindi ship showed up, we didn’t have a lot of options left.”
Archer nodded grimly. “I think you’re selling yourself short, Ensign. I heard that Chang’s brilliant tactical improvisation might have gotten the rest of your team killed—if you hadn’t come up with an impromptu solution of your own.”
“Could I ask who told you that, Captain?” Mayweather asked, looking uncomfortable. “Because I know you didn’t hear about any of that from me.”
“I had a brief chat with Major Hayes just before you arrived for dinner,” Archer said.
Mayweather looked as surprised as Reed felt. It wasn’t that Reed lacked faith in the young helmsman’s ad hoc problem-solving abilities; rather, he’d simply assumed that the arrogant MACOs would have been unable to resist the urge to take sole credit for their strike team’s success, especially since they had lost one of their own on the mission.
“Maybe exceeding our orders once in a while is what it’ll take to stop the Xindi from deploying their weapon,” Archer said, breaking the silence that followed his revelation. He raised his glass and very quickly finished