Lost Era 05_ Deny thy Father - Jeff Mariotte [7]
“They thought I was dead,” Kyle objected. “Hell, I thought I was dead. Take a look at my medical records. Ask Dr. Pulaski what shape I was in when she started working on me.”
“Hardly an impartial witness,” Captain Sistek put in. She was a Vulcan, with typical Vulcan features-straight black hair, slanted eyebrows, pointed ears. The only thing Kyle found unique about her was her nose, which was long and aquiline. She spoke with her head tilted back a little, giving the impression that she was sighting down it, as if it were some kind of weapon.
“My… relationship with Katherine began when I was in therapy,” Kyle insisted. “Not before. I was hardly in any position to romance her when they took me off the starbase, unless she has an odd attraction to jellyfish. I was near-dead, more than half the bones in my body were broken, I had lost enormous amounts of blood. Katherine herself said that she had never seen anyone so badly injured. If I was in cahoots with the Tholians, they sure are lousy allies.”
” ‘With friends like that,’ eh?” Owen quoted.
“Exactly,” Kyle said. “I’d like to know just who is making this charge.”
“Should it ever go beyond this stage, to a formal complaint, you will have that opportunity,” Owen promised him. “But for now, that person’s identity will remain confidential.”
He kept up a strong front, but inside, Kyle was shaken. The attack the night before had been one thing-the threat of physical violence was unpleasant, but he had survived violence before. A body could be mended. But this threatened to attack his career, the very thing that had carried him through those bad days after the destruction of 311. Kyle had, for most of his adult life, defined himself through his career. He was an asset to Starfleet, an important cog in the big wheel that kept the peace and explored the galaxy. Without Starfleet, he would be lost.
And it could get worse yet. There could be prison time, if he were found guilty of treason. Starfleet justice was fair but firm. If whoever was behind this had somehow trumped up evidence against him, then he could be looking at a hard fall.
“So,” Kyle said, working to keep his concern out of his voice. “Where do we go from here?”
“As I said, there’ll be an investigation,” Owen replied crisply. “I’ll keep you informed of its progress as we go. If formal charges are to be brought, I’ll let you know that as well. Kyle, this is not a railroad job, and no one is out to get you. But we need to follow procedure. I’m sure you can understand that.”
“I understand,” Kyle said. Something else had been nagging at him, and suddenly he realized what it was. He decided not to bring it up now, though, but to hold back in case it was something he could use later on. Vice Admiral Bonner had seemingly known details that he had never reported-at least, that he didn’t remember having told anyone, though his first few weeks in therapy were pretty fuzzy in his mind-about the attack. He had described the Tholians looking into the ventilation units and Jefferies tubes, but he was pretty sure he had never shared the fact that they had torn apart equipment and walls looking for more victims. That meant that Bonner’s source, whoever it was, had some good information-information no one alive should have had.
His future was looking more bleak by the minute.
“We’re dismissed, then,” Owen said. “Thank you for your cooperation, Kyle.”
The meeting broke up, and Kyle started back toward his office, without escorts and without a backward glance. But Owen Paris caught up to him before he’d gotten very far from the conference room. He tried on a wan smile, but it didn’t fit well and he dropped it. “Kyle,” he said, taking Kyle’s arm in his hand. “I want you to know I feel terrible about this.”
Kyle nodded.