Maker - Michael Jan Friedman [83]
McAteer looked as content as the captain had ever seen him. And why not? He had won.
“However,” said Caber, “we need men who are lucky on the bridges of our ships, just as much as we need men who follow the letter of Starfleet law.”
Picard wasn’t certain that he had heard correctly. Was Caber actually saying something good about him?
“There’s more than one way to skin a cat,” said Caber. “And all those captains who came before us…they went with their gut reaction as often as they went with protocol, even though they were the ones who helped put the protocol in place.
“You can’t teach instinct,” he noted. “You can’t imprint it. You can only give someone the leeway to make his own decisions and hope he shows some evidence of it—as Captain Picard did in his encounter with the Nuyyad.”
I will be damned, Picard thought. He is saying something good about me.
“Admiral,” said McAteer, protesting as the captain and Mehdi would not, “this is highly—”
“He may have been rash,” said Caber, forging ahead despite his colleague. “He may have thrown caution to the winds. But let’s not forget the fact that he was also right.”
“To believe that,” said McAteer, “you would have to take the word of a species we know nothing about.” He glanced at the captain. “And thanks to Picard, we never will.”
Caber appeared unimpressed. “Captain Picard may not have the ability to tell when someone’s lying, Admiral, but I do. And Dojjaron was telling the truth. I’d stake my life on it.”
“Then,” said Admiral Mehdi, “you’ve decided to rule in Captain Picard’s favor?”
“I have,” said Caber.
McAteer turned crimson. “Admiral, you heard the evidence. I don’t see how you can—”
“Maybe I’m wrong about him,” said Caber. “Only time will tell, I suppose. But at this point, knowing what I know of him, I can’t rule any other way.”
McAteer looked as if he wanted to say more, to insist that his colleague see the matter as he did. But obviously, there was no point. Caber had made up his mind.
“Under the circumstances,” said Mehdi, a smile of unexpected pleasure on his face, “I would have to say that Captain Picard has received a vote of confidence. I trust he will continue to prove deserving of it.”
I will indeed, Picard thought.
At that juncture, McAteer probably wished he had chosen someone else for his jury, but it was too late. Having already extolled Caber’s qualifications on the record, he could hardly contradict himself now.
Mehdi regarded McAteer. “Admiral?”
The muscles in McAteer’s jaw worked furiously. But then, he had lost, and everyone knew it.
“The hearing is adjourned,” he conceded, his voice flat and lifeless.
Mehdi turned to Picard. Considering his place on the jury, it would have been unseemly for him to pat the captain on the back. But the glance Mehdi shot him served the same purpose.
Moments later, Picard found himself out in the corridor, surrounded by several of his officers—Ben Zoma, Simenon, Greyhorse, Joseph, and the Asmunds.
“So you’re still in charge?” asked Ben Zoma.
“It would appear so,” said the captain, “yes.”
Strange, he thought. He had been so certain that he would lose his command, so absolutely sure of it, it was difficult to come to terms with the fact that he hadn’t.
“Just as well,” Simenon responded. “I’ve begun to get accustomed to you.”
The captain smiled at him. “And I you.” He turned to Ben Zoma again. “Just one question—about Dojjaron.”
“Amazing, isn’t it? I didn’t think he would spit on you if you were dying of thirst. But when he heard about the hearing, he insisted on testifying in your behalf.”
“Then it was his idea?” Picard asked.
“His and no one else’s,” said Ben Zoma. “All I did was contact Admiral Mehdi, who—as you can imagine—was pleased as hell to have him as a witness.”
“Speak of the devil,” said Greyhorse.
Following the doctor’s gaze, Picard saw Dojjaron lumber toward him. The Nuyyad still had his security escort.
Ben