Security - Keith R. A. DeCandido [1]
One of the Starfleet people, a Tellarite officer, broke cover and headed for one of the faceted wall sections that looked like a series of sparkling icicles. Another bellowed, “Tev, what the hell are you doing?”
Two seconds after Lieutenant Commander Tev broke cover, another followed him, this an enlisted security guard, armed with a phaser rifle, which he shot at the brown ball.
“Computer, freeze program.”
At the command from Lieutenant Commander Domenica Corsi, the tableau stopped moving. Andrew Angelopoulos sighed. Here it comes.
“All right,” the security chief said to the people under her command, gathered in the da Vinci’s hololab for a debrief, “who can tell me what Angelopoulos did wrong there?”
Around him, six other enlisted guards raised their hands. Angelopoulos put his head in his.
Standing before them, Corsi, flanked by her deputy, Chief Vance Hawkins, smiled. “Angelopoulos, do you know what you did wrong?”
Venturing a smile, he said, “Yes, ma’am—I shouldn’t have bothered wasting my energy defending a stupid officer who doesn’t know not to break cover?”
Several chuckles started to form, then died when Corsi’s facial expression managed—somehow—to get darker.
“Most officers—particularly engineers, a type of officer we are overburdened with on this ship—are too stupid to know not to break cover. That’s why we’re here. Now, when Hawkins beamed down with you, Robins, Lauoc, Krotine, and T’Mandra to support Tev, Stevens, and Conlon, you each had a task. Hawkins was in charge, Lauoc and T’Mandra were to secure the perimeter, and what were the rest of you supposed to do, Robins?”
Angelopoulos had opened his mouth to answer, but Corsi had instead posed the question to Madeleine Robins. She had been in security on the da Vinci since the ship was first given over to the S.C.E. six years ago; she even predated “Core-Breach.”
The older woman said, “We were to protect the engineers, ma’am. I had Stevens, Krotine had Conlon, and Angelopoulos had Tev.”
“Right. Krotine, what does protecting the engineers mean, exactly?”
The wiry Boslic woman gave Angelopoulos an apologetic look before saying, “Stick by the engineers at all times—no matter what.”
“No matter what, yes.”
Corsi paced back and forth in the hololab. Angelopoulos wished they would get past this part and move on to their assignments for the upcoming mission—from what Angelopoulos heard from Bennett and Phelps in engineering, they were splitting into three groups. Before that, though, Corsi was taking the opportunity to pick apart their mission to Artemis IX, undertaken before their unexpected rescue of Commander Gomez from Rec Station Hidalgo.
Finally Corsi turned her pitiless blue eyes on Angelopoulos, who, for his part, was trying desperately to sink into the bench. Next to him, Makk Vinx was doing a terrible job of holding in one of his trademark guffaws.
“Angelopoulos,” she said in a slow voice, “does ‘no matter what’ include following officers when they break cover to start playing with their crystals?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Yet you didn’t do that.”
“No, ma’am. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting it.”
“Congratulations, that’s the second wrong answer you’ve given in five minutes. People, we’re security. Our job is to expect the unexpected and to keep the people on this ship safe. You, Angelopoulos, failed in that regard pretty spectacularly on Artemis. Most of you came on after Galvan VI, and that’s because seven good people died protecting this ship. If you can’t handle that, then you can follow Powers out the door. Understood?”
As one, all nine security personnel, even Hawkins, said, “Yes, ma’am.”
Angelopoulos bit his lip in annoyance. Back on Risa, Hawkins had asked Angelopoulos what he thought of Corsi, and he descirbed her then as “brusque.” After that dressing-down, brusque would be a relief.
He also thought that her shot at Frank Powers was unjustified. True, Powers had complained