Mosaic - Jeri Taylor [111]
With that pronouncement he set down his last padd and folded his hands in front of him, solemnly regarding her. A deep hush had fallen on the room, and Kathryn realized she was going to have to defend herself. Admiral Finnegan turned to her, and though his voice was quiet, it held no hint of pliability. "You may feel free to answer the charges, Captain." Kathryn took a moment to compose herself, then stood. "Sir, I was raised in the traditions of Starfleet. I learned the precepts of this organization at an early age; I admire and honor them." She paused, looking from one to the other, but studiously ignoring Tuvok the Vulcan. "It has always been clear to me that Starfleet is first and foremost an institution which is dedicated to exploration and investigation. Its primary responsibilities are the acquisition of knowledge, the seeking out of new worlds, and the establishment of cordial relations with other species.
"Those tasks represent the mandate we have created-a mandate which is both positive and powerful." She looked directly at Admiral Finnegan. "This is not, strictly speaking, a military organization. It functions as such only when there is a need for self-defense. The military aspects of Starfleet-its command structure and nomenclature, for example-are in place primarily as a framework within which its members can function according to clearly established guidelines."
Now she turned directly to Tuvok, looked him square in those shielded eyes of his, and drilled into him. "Tactical functions, weapons checks, battle drills-those are activities I consider low-priority. As long as I am assured that we are at the ready in case of attack, I see no need to spend large amounts of time drilling the crew in the mechanics of war. I am satisfied that the weapons systems and the crew were ready for any eventuality, and as such, that I fulfilled the tactical requirements adequately."
She and the Vulcan held a look for a long, quiet beat, and then she turned to Admiral Finnegan. His face was devoid of expression. He turned to Tuvok. "Any comment, Ensign?" he asked mildly.
Now Tuvok stood, but Kathryn didn't sit back down. They faced each other at opposite ends of a table, like combatants squaring off in a gladiatorial ring. Kathryn's heart was still hammering, but Tuvok was utterly composed. He might as well have been ordering dinner. She'd never understood Vulcans, never comprehended their icy reserve, never really trusted the capacities of those who eschewed emotion. Her humiliating tennis defeat years ago at the hands of Shalarik suddenly enveloped her, reopening old wounds. She was gripped with the determination that she mustn't fail this time; this Vulcan could not best her.
"The captain's idealism is admirable, of course," he intoned. "However, that very structure of which she speaks is an absolutely essential component of a smoothly functioning organization. Regulations do not exist in a vacuum; they are in place for specific and legitimate purposes. Starfleet Command has set the rules and I am certain they did not do so frivolously. We must assume that regulations are established for the most definitive of reasons."
And now it was his turn to look Kathryn in the eye. "If it is left to the individual to decide which rules are to be followed, and on what schedule, then the rules cease to have meaning. The only possible result is anarchy. The smooth functioning that Captain Janeway speaks of so eloquently does not come spontaneously; it comes at a cost and that cost must be paid." Kathryn felt the eyes of the three admirals on her. "Anything else, Captain?" queried Finnegan. She took a breath and, still staring at Tuvok, rebutted. "By its nature, the captaincy of a ship on a deep-space mission requires flexible discretionary powers. A captain must be able to confront unexpected circumstances and have enough leeway to respond appropriately. Slavish adherence to rules can