Ship of the Line - Diane Carey [79]
“Sir, communication science is better than it was ninety years ago. You’re fooling yourself if you think they’re not watching every move this ship makes.”
“I don’t know if that matters much,” Bateson said. “When you’re expecting a desert war, you don’t practice swimming. When we expect conflict in the Typhon Expanse, we don’t stage war games at Rigel. Starfleet crews have to be familiar with the conditions, anomalies, and cosmic configuration where the conflict might actually happen, don’t you agree?”
“In theory, yes.”
“That’s what we’re doing. Will, I’m not being contentious as a hobby. Some time after the Bozeman disappeared, peace broke out between the Federation and the empire. I’m one of those people who think we’re the only side really being peaceful. Just look at the Klingon Empire. It’s perfectly acceptable in political situations to gain by murder. A simple disagreement can mean a fight to the death. And we have a treaty with that! The Federation actually recognizes that as a legitimate government, and thereby we say it’s okay to behave like that!”
“The Federation,” Riker told him sternly, “recognizes the High Council because it is the de facto government. We try not to make value judgments.”
“Well, you’d better start making some. When I came forward in time ninety years, I was relieved that the Federation still existed. Then I paid closer attention. The Federation’s foreign policy these days is nothing short of burlesque.”
“We’re at peace. Peace, Captain. With your attitude, do you even know what that means?”
Apparently Riker hit a chord with that one. The captain lowered his chin and his eyes smoldered. “I know one of the charms of peace is putting off thinking about things that are ugly. The willful lack of candor and foresight are precisely the ingredients to create a catastrophe. Those who avoid the lessons of the past create conditions for the next disaster. It’s one of the worst mass delusions since Stanley Baldwin lied to the English people about the Luftwaffe. If you want peace, you must prepare for war.”
Taking sustenance from Troi’s encouraging eyes, Riker shook his head in dismay and protested, “Captain, that is the most flagrantly irresponsible crock of paranoia I have ever heard. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Maybe. But that last part wasn’t me talking.”
Knowing he was being baited, Riker decided to field the blow. “All right, who was it?”
“George Washington.” Cockily Bateson flared an eyebrow. “You want to tell him to be ashamed too?”
Tipping his head, Riker accused, “Sir, are you comparing yourself to George Washington?”
Bateson shrugged unapologetically. “We had better hold ourselves up to great people, or we will certainly fall short.”
“Granted, but I honestly believe we’re provoking trouble by displaying our anticipation of it!”
Furiously Riker pointed at the glittering panorama of the Typhon Expanse opening before them, hoping to make an illustration before one made itself.
Unaffected by the bolt of volume from his unhappy first officer, Bateson looked at the forward screen for a few moments as if appreciating what he saw out there. An almost nostalgic quietude came over him, and his voice was now as mellow as Riker’s had been fierce.
“If we stumble into a big problem five years from now with shrinking forces, obsolescing weapons, and a leadership that doesn’t know how to design a serious campaign, we won’t get much ballast out of saying, ‘Hey, we tried to be nice.’ The Federation can fall, Will. We can be overrun and we can be demolished. Complacency is a disgrace.”
“Strong words, Captain,” Riker said, matching the lowered tone. “But I’m frankly terrified that a ship of this power is commanded by a man who thinks that ‘peace’ and ‘fooling ourselves’ are the same thing.”
“I’ve told you you’re free to go,” Bateson offered again. “You can call it ‘peace,’ but I still don’t buy it. Do you, Mr. Scott?”
“Never have, sir.”
Experienced, tempered, and almost amused