USS Sovereign
Court Martial - Star Fleet Versus Robinson
by Parker Gabriel
(parker_gabriel@juno.com)

Court Martial - Star Fleet Versus Robinson

THE U.S.S. SOVEREIGN HAD BEEN FORCED TO ABANDON A FIRST-CONTACT MISSION TO THE PLANET BOLGOR, WHOSE RESULTS HAD BEEN DISASTROUS. One member of its crew, a full lieutenant named Jay Ansky, once its Diplomatic Officer, was now reported dead. The Sovereign's Commanding Officer, Fleet Captain Siandierra Anjulee Beautelier, had ordered a non-scheduled layover on Star Base 217 for new personnel assignments. As these were coming on board, a cenotaph bearing Ansky's name was planted on the surface of the planet on which the star base was located.

The Sovereign's Intelligence Officer, Lieutenant Commander Christopher Thomas Robinson, had commanded the away team that had conducted the ill-fated mission. He was now making a full report to Vice Admiral Robert Vosseller Jr., acting commanding officer and port-master of the star base. It was stardate 51419.3--four seconds after 01:04 hours on Wednesday, June 3, 2374,

Vosseller himself had been an Intelligence Officer, with the code name Bold One, for fifteen years, from 2353 to 2368, transferring to the Command Section in 2368. As the Intelligence Officer "Bold One," he had served his tour of duty in Star Fleet Intelligence with distinction. After he became a flag officer, he had received command of the U.S.S. Challenger V, of the U.S.S. Galaxy V's class of Type I Exploration Dreadnoughts. This was now his flagship and hence that of the Seventh Fleet, to which the Sovereign, prototype of its class of Type II Exploration Dreadnoughts, was also deployed. Regarding Vosseller himself, Robinson found that he could not avoid thinking of the Q who had posed such a danger to the Enterprise V. Certainly Vosseller, in terms of height and of his thinned, almost bald sand-brown hair, bore a minor physical resemblance, at the very least, to the external appearance which that pseudo-corporeal being favored.

"Only so many sizes and shapes..." Robinson murmured.

"Do you have something to say to me, Commander?" Vosseller asked.

"I was just musing that for all the wide variety of the various life-forms in the Universe, there are still only so many sizes and shapes that corporeal intelligent life can take."

"Because I look so much like that Q entity?"

"Yes, sir. The shipmate of mine who died on that first-contact mission to Bolgor," he pronounced the name of that planet BOWL-gore, "Lieutenant Jay Ansky, our Diplomatic Officer, was not easy to tell apart from Commander ShadowRunner, our Assistant Chief Engineering Officer."

"I can understand that; I confused those two men once." Vosseller grinned. As his grin faded, he asked, "And your sworn deposition regarding the Bolgoreans's unprovoked attack on your away team, the attack in which Lieutenant Ansky was killed?"

"Commander FrioDraca, the OIC of my section, should be here any minute with the computer log extract from the Bolgorean mission." Robinson pronounced the word BOWL-gore-EE-uhn.

Just at that moment, the double pocket hatches of Vosseller's office undogged, and Commander FrioDraca walked through them.

The Andorian nobleman who served as Chief Security & Tactical Officer of the Sovereign was far calmer and much more controlled than most humans would have been in that situation. But to such members of the Sovereign's unofficial Vulcan colony as its de facto Officer-In-Charge, Science Officer Commander Dr. Selek, he would have seemed beside himself with rage. His prehensile antennae were fluttering and waving about wildly, and his bearing was clearly that of a man who was displeased with a situation.

"Frio," Robinson murmured.

"I knew it--I just knew it," FrioDraca snapped. "I just knew you'd get a man killed one of these days by looking before you leaped, the way you always do." Turning to Vosseller, he handed the flag officer a tripolymer sealant-ruggedized isolinear optical chip. "Admiral, sir," he went on much more calmly, "this optical chip contains the extract from the computer log of the shuttlecraft Red Dragon Six, just as you requested."

"Sir, I leaped with eyes open, and I knew where I would land when I leaped!" Robinson protested as Vosseller inserted the chip into a reader, then played back and read the log extract. "Jay just refused to open his eyes. All I did wrong was leap without asking the people I should have asked for the permission I needed--and ONLY because I didn't know just who those were."

"It'll be a long time before you get command of an away mission again, Robinson, if you ever do, that is--that's for damned sure!"

"Would you mind staying here, Commander?"

"Why should I?" FrioDraca wanted to know.

Vosseller answered, "I will be interested in any comments you have to make."

He turned back to the junior officer.

"Commander Robinson, you say that the Bolgoreans were armed with archaic phaser rifles when they attacked your away team?"

"You have my sworn deposition to that effect."

The flag officer suddenly favored Robinson with a withering glare.

"Then I am forced to presume that you have committed willful perjury!" he snapped, his manner no longer pleasant. "This extract from your shuttle's log says that the attacking Bolgoreans were armed with modern phaser rifles!"

"WHAT???"

"Consider yourself confined to the base, effective immediately!"

"Someone must have set me up--that's the only explanation that makes any sense!"

"AN OFFICIAL INQUIRY WILL BE CONVENED TO DECIDE IF A GENERAL COURT-MARTIAL IS IN ORDER!!"

FrioDraca was stunned at the venomous, though by no means empty, threat that the flag officer had just voiced. Even he had had no idea that it might come to this.

* * * * *

Back on board the Sovereign, less than half an hour after the scene in Vosseller's office, Fleet Captain Siandierra Anjulee Beautelier was aboard the Main Bridge, sitting in the Command Con and responding to Commander FrioDraca's report with open puzzlement.

"A courrt-marrtial?" she was now asking her Chief Security And Tactical Officer, who himself had remained on the surface.

"Yes, ma'am," was the Andorian's response. "Apparently, Admiral Vosseller has difficulty believing in Commander Robinson's innocence."

"If I werre an admirral myself, I'd--"

"Ma'am, you can always apply for a promotion."

"Maybe I will, Frrio," the Caitian hinted. "Forr now, you will be assisting in the prrosecution of Commanderr RRobinson. You arre temporrarrily rrelieved as Chief Securrity And Tactical Officerr in favorr of Chief Warrrrant Officerr Elvass D'Qing, effective immediately, and only effective until such time as the courrt-marrtial prroceedings against Commanderr RRobinson arre completed."

"And once the proceedings are over, will I be reinstated?"

"To the extent that you wish to be rreinstated, yes."

"It will be interesting to se what my friend Commander Telsek K'Mar has to say about this case."

"Perrhaps you should tell him about a serries of anomalies that yourr perrsonnel had detected nearr Commanderr RRobinson's quarrterrs."

"Ma'am, the investigation I am conducting into those anomalies is not yet completed, and I have no wish to disclose--"

"No fact is insignificant when any memberr of my crrew is in legal trrouble," Siandierra broke in sharply. "Rreporrt whateverr rresults yourr investigation may disclose to Admirral Vossellerr as soon as possible--is that clearr?"

FrioDraca nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Arre therre any legal counselorrs currrrently assigned to that starr base who arre likely to be prrosecuting Commanderr RRobinson?"

"Several, ma'am. I happen to know at least one of them personally."

A somewhat dismissive tone crept into Siandierra's communicator-filtered voice. "Who you know orr don't know among them is none of my business--orr Starr Fleet's business, forr that matterr--as long as it won't interrferre with yourr duties."

"I should be able to assist that legal counselor quite effectively," FrioDraca explained. "After all, among my people, nobles are all required to study Federation and Andorian law so that they can better assist the Emperor or the Viceroys in their duties."

* * * * *

In his office on the surface, Vosseller was reminding Robinson, "You won't get to meet, or even see, the board of inquiry." He had calmed down significantly from his previous threatening mood, but he was clearly still not pleased. "As far as you're concerned, this inquiry is strictly you and me. The board will study the recording we make."

"I understand," Robinson remarked. "That's to keep them impartial, and so that I can't influence them in any other way than the recording they'll study." Vosseller nodded in confirmation. "This feels painfully like Star Fleet's case against James Kirk regarding Ben Finney."

"Recording inquiry," Vosseller dictated into the computer annex. "Matter: Lieutenant Commander Robinson, Christopher T. Subject: Circumstances of death, Lieutenant Ansky, Jay. This inquiry to determine if a general court-martial should be convened against Commander Robinson on charges of cultural contamination, murder, espionage, and gross insubordination."

"AWAITING INPUT," the computer responded.

"Let's begin by discussing your relationship with the decedent, Lieutenant Ansky, your Executive Officer on the away team you commanded."

"Such as it was."

"You didn't know him for very long, did you?"

"No," Robinson confessed. "He was a graduate of a more recent class of the Academy than I was, and he came from this time, which I don't. Besides, we didn't agree about field duties. He'd served an unusually long tour of ground duty before his assignment aboard the Sovereign."

"It's common knowledge that something happened to turn him against you."

"I've never made a secret of it. He had been assigned to evaluate me for an engineering course. But then he read my history as a passenger of an earlier ship named Sovereign, and how I had been attacked by a certain Lieutenant Tholon, whom I had killed to ensure my own survival."

"And he didn't take that very well?"

"No. In fact, immediately after reading my record, he accosted me in a passageway and accused me of attempting to trigger a diplomatic incident by killing Tholon."

"Why was that so much of a problem?"

"We were then en route to a diplomatic mission to Andor. He reminded me that even though their government is a republic--a representative democracy, if you will--whose Emperor now lacks real political power, the Andorians still consider themselves subjects of the Epsilon Indi Star Empire, and retain something of a feudal state and an elaborate code of honor."

"Just like the Klingons."

"Oh, very much so, yes indeed. One false move and I could have triggered another diplomatic incident. I reminded Lieutenant Ansky that all I had done to provoke Tholon's attack was be born human. He didn't believe me, and offered his diplomatic expertise to handle the situation."

"Did you accept it?"

"No, sir. I rejected it. I doubted that he grasped the evil of which Lieutenant Tholon and his family were guilty. Even though, thankfully, there was no incident, Jay's complaints about my non-regulation conduct, as he called it, angered powerful Federation dignitaries who were also participants. He drew a reprimand, and his name was removed from the promotion list."

"And he hated you for that?"

"That was the sense I got, at least. He'd been trained, in the Academy, to respond to crises according to regulations. However, I'm originally from the late 23rd Century, when regulations were often more hindrance than help in crises."

Vosseller rolled his eyes upwards. "The late 23rd Century is not a period many contemporary Star Fleet admirals view very favorably."

"Well, I'm originally from that time, and I handled the situation accordingly. As a result, Lieutenant Ansky was convinced that I mishandled it. My rejection of unsolicited offers of assistance he had made freely, he felt, looked bad on his record and worse on my own. My actions, he believed, proved I could not be trusted with such responsibilities."

"Comment--permanent service records of Lieutenants Ansky and Tholon and known family history of Lieutenant Tholon to be appended to this inquiry."

"NOTED."

"Now, let's get into the specifics of the Bolgorean mission, Commander."

"Our assignment to Bolgor called for peaceful first contact with the natives. They had developed primitive warp technology, and were on the verge of developing transtators. I chose Ansky as my Number One when I was given command of the away mission."

"Why Ansky?" There was a curious sarcasm in Vosseller's voice.

"His first-contact clearance was current. Mine hadn't yet been finalized at the time."

"If he hated you for not doing what he wanted from you--"

"He might have hated me for rejecting his advice, but I don't recruit away team members based on who hates me. Jay Ansky had permissions I lacked, and I recruited him."

"All right, now let's discuss the details of the first-contact mission."

"We made landfall by shuttlecraft, as the natives had not developed transporters. Because they were indigenous to Bolgor, the Prime Directive applied. Joe Horton, our Communications-And-Flight Con Officer, was piloting the shuttlecraft I chose, the Red Dragon Six. We were using its tactical deflector shields as a crude cloaking device, since otherwise we would have been visible to their tracking devices."

"I do know something about a shuttle's deflector shields," Vosseller admitted. "They're essentially enhanced navigational deflectors."

"Navigational diverters, Admiral, sir," Robinson said. "They only truly become tactical DEFLECTOR shields when energized for combat."

"Be that as it may," Vosseller said. "Proceed."

"In order not to attract attention, I ordered soft-landing in a desolate tract where I was convinced we would not draw a crowd. But without warning, over forty hostile natives were firing on us, using phaser rifles such as had not been issued in over a hundred years to hold us at bay. They were actually more powerful than current Star Fleet Marine standard-issue rifles, but more difficult to wield with finesse or accuracy than modern ones are. Jay knew he had seconds to shield himself. I gave him those, and more. But apparently, it was nowhere near enough time."

"Then why, Commander, does the extract from the computer log of your shuttle, which was made automatically at the time, indicate that the Bolgoreans were armed with modern phaser rifles and not archaic ones?"

Robinson shook his head in open puzzlement as he considered the question. All he could say in response was, "I haven't the foggiest idea, except that, as I've said, I think someone set me up."

"There's been a mistake."

"That seems to be the case; I wouldn't be surprised."

"Could the computer be wrong?"

"Dr. Selek is running a survey on the Red Dragon Six right now, but the odds against such errors are next to impossible. There have been some highly anomalous activities relating to the annex in my quarters, but those won't be relevant if this case never makes it to court-martial."

"Stop recording," Vosseller suddenly said. Turning to Robinson, he went on, "Now, look, Chris. Not one man in a million could be what you and I have been--Star Fleet Intelligence Officers. Dirty work with few rewards, the need to tell hundreds of lies to hundreds of thousands of people in order to save your own neck, loyalties always disputed, and never knowing who or even if to trust. You've lost your moral compass, Chris. You're in pieces."

Robinson began to see the direction Vosseller was taking, and he found that he hated it. "Begging the Bold One's pardon, but is that how you see it?"

"That's what my report'll say if you cooperate."

"Physical exhaustion, maybe even psychological breakdown?"

"That may be it."

"But I'd be admitting that Jay died--"

"Don't admit a thing--don't say a thing. Let me bury it all here and now. No Star Fleet intelligence officer has stood trial for any serious crime in literally years, and I don't want you to be the officer who ends that scandal-free record."

"But if your suspicions hold up, then I should be cashiered, possibly even imprisoned!"

"I'm thinking of the Fleet. I'm not about to have it stained--"

Robinson's voice rose. "By who or what, Bold One?"

Vosseller flushed in irritation. "All right, damn it," he growled. "By an evident perjurer, spy, traitor, cultural infector, and insubordinate murderer who's covering up his bad judgment, his cowardice, or his criminal--"

"That's as far as your insinuations and accusations against me go--sir!" was the angry response, interrupting Vosseller. "Otherwise I'm gonna forget that you are a flag officer. I'm telling you, I was there--on the surface. I know what happened there. I know what I did!"

"It's all there in the extract, and computer log extracts don't lie--not even shuttlecraft computer log extracts," the port-master responded coldly. "Now I warn you, Commander Robinson. You have two choices. Either you accept a permanent ground assignment, or Star Fleet Command rests its whole disciplinary weight right on your backside."

"You mean to tell me that you plan to sweep this whole thing under the rug and me along with it? Not during my tour of duty. I'm fighting all but one of these accusations."

The former Intelligence Officer who had once been known by the code name of Bold One sneered, "You wretched walking dinosaur fossil--you wouldn't bite? Fine."

"Of course not, not if it tastes that indigestible!"

"THEN YOU DRAW A GENERAL COURT!!" Vosseller exploded.

"Draw it? I demand it! And today, do you hear me, Admiral Vosseller? TODAY!!"

"You'll get it today--don't worry about that. Dismissed."

Robinson did not move.

"I SAID DISMISSED!!"

This time Robinson got up and left. After he did, Vosseller tapped the intercom switch. "Comm officer," he said, "get me Personnel Division. I'll need to appoint four member judges for a general court-martial trial board."

He was successful in securing the services of four Star Fleet officers, two of whom, he was promised, would be Star Fleet Marine Corpsmen, since Robinson himself was. As the officers who would comprise the trial board of the court-martial that would be titled Star Fleet Versus Robinson for the Star Fleet Legal Division's record traveled to Star Base 217, the revisions of the Sovereign's crew roster neared completion. Robinson took advantage of his limited free time to eat a breakfast. Though the food he ate was unappetizing, he believed he needed to build up his strength.

"Enjoying your breakfast, human?" asked a passing Andorian in a Star Fleet uniform, identical to Robinson's own, whose platinum-yoked black outer tunic covered a bronze inner tunic. Two gold pins and a gold-bordered black pin adorned the right side of the inner tunic collar, just as they did Robinson's. Aside from his Andorian features, he was a dead ringer for Robinson himself.

"No," Robinson confessed. "I'm only eating it to build up strength for legal proceedings I'll be facing in a matter of hours." He gestured to the items on his meal plate and in the mug and tumblers around him. "This scrapple tastes sour, this quadro-triticale toast is low on butter and somewhat over-toasted, these eggs taste burned, this orange juice tastes a trifle bitter, this apple juice is a bit salty, and this coffee is some of the star base's worst."

The Andorian said dismissively, "Well, I suggest you enjoy it in spite of all those sensory defects you say it has. If you're found guilty of the charges you'll face, you'll never get a real meal again."

Robinson was curious. "What's your name?"

"Tholin. I'm a lawyer in the Judge Advocate's office."

"And a light commander, just like me," noted the human of the Andorian who had just identified himself as Tholin.

"At least you can favor me with similar courtesy," Tholin said.

"Christopher Thomas Robinson. I'm an Intelligence Officer, assigned aboard the Sovereign."

"And one in a great deal of trouble. Will you take some advice?"

"I need all the advice I can get, Mr. Tholin."

Sitting down next to Robinson, Tholin noted blandly, "The prosecution will build Star Fleet's case on the basis of Robinson against the system--easy enough because of your past history. Now, if your attorney tries to defend you on the same basis, you won't have a chance."

"Maybe and maybe not. But what other choice do I have?"

"That'll be up to your attorney, and that's why he or she will have to be a good one."

"You, maybe?"

"No, Mr. Robinson. I'll be too busy for that."

"Legal counselors with your reputed ability should be able to handle two cases at once."

"Mr. Robinson, don't be flippant," Tholin warned. "I do have some familiarity with your case, thanks to my friend Duke Commander FrioDraca. You're essentially a spy who's accused of having touched off political scandal. If the prosecution knows of any way to do it, then it'll slap you down hard, and permanently, to benefit the service."

Robinson glared at Tholin. "I didn't mean to be flippant--what I said was meant as a compliment of your abilities as an attorney." He drank his apple juice. "You still haven't recommended anyone."

"Cheryl Wharton, civilian attorney-at-law with the firm of Cogley And Shaw. If anyone can save your career, she can. She'll be paying you a visit before proceedings convene. I have to go." He rose from his own chair. Then, all of a sudden, the out-of-his-time human called out, "Wait! You haven't even told me how you know so much about what the prosecutor's gonna do."

As he got to his feet, Tholin turned on Robinson with a dismissive gaze. "Because, Chris Robinson, you fossilized terrestrial relic, I am the prosecutor. And I'll do my very best to have you slapped down hard, broken out of the service...in disgrace." He eyed the other man challengingly. "I said that Duke Commander FrioDraca and I are friends, and that's true. He's been ordered to assist me in prosecuting you, and not to allow our friendship to interfere with that duty."

"It figures. You're almost the Areel Shaw to my James Kirk."

Tholin regarded Robinson critically, and his voice turned chiding and somewhat dismissive. "So you see, political intrigue is not as unique to your time as you probably thought it would be. Now tell me. Is all that worth your having abandoned the Twenty-Third Century?"

He turned and left. As Robinson watched Tholin go, he drank the rest of his coffee in a hurried draft. As he was drinking, a woman with short dark hair who had been watching the tableau walked over to the booth. "You Robinson?" she asked.

"Yes, I am."

He reached out his right hand to shake hers. But instead of taking it in her own, the woman slapped him on the right wrist with her own left hand, using all the force she could muster. As he withdrew his right hand, which now stung in pain, she spat, "That's my little penalty against you for what you are."

"Which is what?"

"Not a civilian, certainly!"

Clearly offended at what the woman had just done, Robinson snapped, "What's wrong with you? Don't you like Star Fleet personnel?"

"Oh, all four of my grandparents were in Star Fleet," the woman replied with open hostility, "but they were all killed in the line of duty not long after my parents were born."

"You'd rather deal with civilians, huh?"

"Of course I would. You're not a civilian, you weren't accused by civilians, you're not gonna be tried in a civilian court, and your PUNISHMENT sure as hell isn't gonna be based on civilian laws!"

"Why deal with me, then?"

The woman became glum. "I've been handed an ultimatum."

Robinson found that he could not keep from smiling. "You have to be either an obsessive crackpot who's just escaped from her keeper or Cheryl Wharton, legal counselor!"

"You're right on both counts, I'm afraid," said the woman whom Robinson had just identified as Cheryl Wharton. "Need a lawyer?"

"I'm afraid so," confessed Robinson, his smile fading. "I've been charged with crimes that could ruin my career permanently if I'm convicted of them. You were handed an ultimatum, you say. What did that ultimatum say and who handed it to you?"

Wharton responded with a question of her own. "Ever heard of Hardesty Grover?"

Robinson gave a start at the name. "The infamous defender of anti-Star Fleet causes? The son of Sam Cogley's last law clerk? I hear he's a particularly vicious trial attorney!"

"That he is," Wharton said, clearly not happy with what was demanded of her. "The ultimatum he gave me says, in effect, defend a Star Fleet officer being court-martialed or lose my law license. You just happened to be that poor joe--that Star Fleet officer being court-martialed."

Robinson's heart sank. Wharton inspired little confidence in him. "Literally millions of attorneys in this Federation and I get a female Sam Cogley."

* * * * *

Something was shrouded in an environmental life-support suit, with a smoke-gray visor concealing its identity. That something might have been human under all its gear; it was definitely humanoid. It now made its way down the passageway. It paused to check the various labels on the access hatches to the various crew quarters as it passed along. As it passed along, it did not encounter anyone else. Nor did it speak to anyone else; nor was it spoken to by anyone else. This was because its environmental life-support suit was cloaked. It could see out of its visor, but no other personnel could see in. Nor could they see it on account of its cloaking device.

* * * * *

Courtrooms in which Star Fleet conducts its courts-martial are stark. They tend to feature one main viewer, in case extracts from a computer log need to be entered as prosecution or defense exhibits. They also have a computer terminal which serves as a recorder. In all such courtrooms, there is one chair, equipped with a swinging arm into which a complex sensor array has been built, that serves as a witness "stand," one table each for the prosecution and the defense, and, immediately to the right of the witness stand, a high bench behind which the Member Judges of Trial Boards for, and the President Judges of, general, special, and summary courts-martial sit. However, sometimes such courtrooms also include galleries of onlookers and observers, where possible witnesses for the prosecution and/or the defense may sit till called to testify. Star Base Two Hundred And Seventeen's General Court Room had such a gallery. It could accommodate up to one hundred spectators at a time. Behind the bench, two double pocket doors led to the judges's chambers. There were also three pairs of double pocket entrance doors behind the gallery, one for the prosecution; a second for the defense; and a third for possible spectators and witnesses.

Immediately outside the courtroom now waited three groups. The first was the prosecution team of Lieutenant Commander Tholin and Duke Commander FrioDraca.

The second was the defense team of Cheryl Wharton and Counselor Commander Kesla T'Lija Estrazhi, with their client, Christopher Thomas Robinson. And the third consisted of the spectators and witnesses.

As he secured the "Mandarin collar" of the platinum-colored inner tunic of his "dinner" uniform, Robinson was miserable. "I hate these dinner uniforms," he grumbled. "They make us look like civilian restaurant servers."

"No, they don't." This from Estrazhi.

"Easy for you to say. I'd much rather be wearing a wraparound mantle in my section color than these togs."

"Regulations," the counselor reminded him. "You haven't been granted that dispensation to wear such a wraparound mantle yet."

"Don't remind me of the privileges of rank. I'm not in the mood. I wonder if James Kirk felt this bad when he was court-martialed for Ben Finney's death."

"Shouldn't they be swearing us all to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" Wharton asked.

From across the corridor, Tholin heard and explained, "We will all be so sworn in turn, as we take the respective stands." They filed into the courtroom, and each stood next to their intended seats. Then Robert Vosseller Jr., who had entered the courtroom before them, nodded, and all sat down.

Suddenly Wharton gasped, "Oh, my God."

Four individuals, a woman outfitted in a Star Fleet "dinner" uniform, a man outfitted in exactly such an older-style Star Fleet dress uniform as Robinson had wished he were wearing, and two men outfitted in Star Fleet Marine Corps full-dress uniforms, had entered the courtroom. All four officers now took up places behind the bench and Robinson's heart sank. He regarded all four with an air of dejected recognition.

The woman in Star Fleet dinner uniform was Mandi Livingston, once a Star Fleet Legal Division instructor and the former Chief of the Academy's Graduate College Of Law, who was now serving on the staff of the Star Fleet Provost Marshal. This full admiral, to whom both the Star Fleet Inspector General and the Star Fleet Judge Advocate General directly reported, headed an office that covered at least three distinct divisions: Security, Tactical, and Legal. The man in the older Star Fleet uniform, Rahadan Sastrowardoyo, was, as Vosseller himself had once been, an officer in Robinson's section. The two Star Fleet Marine Corpsmen, James Pepe and Scott Akers, were both Special Operations Marines, as was visible from their buff inner tunics. But all this meant less to Robinson than their dismissive expressions did. He knew that look. It was the chilly disdain of wronged superiors who had neither forgotten nor forgiven even a subordinate's accidental insults of conduct rather than of statement. Worst of all, they were now his judges. They would decide if the Bolgorean mission would ruin his career and/or land him in civilian prison. Given their shared low regard for his abilities as an officer, the outcome did not look good.

Vosseller, who wore an older Command Section Star Fleet uniform, called the court to order by striking a modern copy of an ancient naval ship's bell in four pairs of strikes of it. Robinson glanced at the wall chronometer; it was 12:00 hours--stardate 51420.54794520527.

"This court is now in session," declared Vosseller as he took his seat. "The defendant will rise."

Robinson got to his feet. Tholin left the prosecuting officer's table, walked over to the bench, and handed an isolinear optical chip to Vosseller, who inserted it into the reader on the bench and studied it carefully. He then went on, "The court finds four charges and four specifications listed in the preference, and it finds them in order and technically correct. Is the accused ready for trial?"

"If it please the court, the defense hereby lodges another formal preference of charges and specifications," said Wharton without answering. "This is officially entered against Commander FrioDraca, assistant to the prosecuting officer in these proceedings." She left the defense table, walked to the bench, and handed another isolinear optical chip to Vosseller, who inserted it too into the reader and likewise studied it carefully.

"The second preference lists two charges and two specifications. The court finds them in order and technically correct as well. Is the prosecution ready for trial?"

Tholin responded quietly, "Yes, it is, Admiral."

Wharton addressed Vosseller and the Trial Board Member Judges, as it was now clear that they would be. "The accused admits that he is Lieutenant Commander Christopher Thomas Robinson, and that he was the Intelligence Officer of the U.S.S. Sovereign between stardates 51400.0 and 51412.5." That meant between 00:00 hours on Wednesday, May 27 and 13:30 hours on Sunday, May 31, 2374.

From the seat at the defense table in front of which he now stood, Robinson said, "This admission is made with my authority."

Vosseller asked, "Is the defense ready for trial?"

"If we weren't ready, we wouldn't be here, would we?" Wharton shot back sarcastically.

"Yes or no will do," chided Vosseller.

Wharton sighed. "Yes," she said slowly. "The defense is ready for trial."

Vosseller handed the second chip back to Wharton. As she was returning to the defense table, he read the contents of the first: "Charge One: culpable negligence. Specification One: in that, on stardate 51407.8, by such negligence, Lieutenant Commander Robinson, Christopher T., did cause loss of life--to wit, the life of Diplomatic Officer Lieutenant Ansky, Jay. Charge Two: contamination of cultural development, in violation of the Prime Directive Of Non-Interference. Specification Two: in that, on or before stardate 51407.8, Lieutenant Commander Robinson, Christopher T., did publish, into the indigenous sapient culture of the planet Bolgor, whose level of technological development was then known to be inferior to that of the United Federation of Planets, technology classified under General Order One--to wit, the technology of the phased-energy rectifier weapons currently in use by Star Fleet. Charge Three: failure to follow chain of command. Specification Three: in that, on stardate 51407.75, Lieutenant Commander Robinson, Christopher T., did seek and did obtain, both without proper clearance for first contacts and without having sought or obtained, in advance, permission from his Officer-In-Charge, command of an official mission of peaceful first contact--to wit, the first-contact mission to the planet Bolgor. Charge Four: conduct prejudicial to the good of Star Fleet. Specification Four: in that, on stardates 51407.8 and 51407.9, Lieutenant Commander Robinson, Christopher T., did fail to report the incident of such stardates accurately in his official log and did willfully falsify entries in the same." He faced Robinson squarely, with a visibly intimidating expression in his eyes. "Lieutenant Commander Christopher Thomas Robinson, Star Fleet, also known as Major Christopher Thomas Robinson, Star Fleet Marine Corps, you have heard all four charges and all four specifications officially preferred against you, have you not?"

"Yes, sir. I have heard them." These covered less than one and a quarter hours from twenty-four seconds after 19:53 hours to fourteen seconds after 21:12 hours, all on Friday, May 29, 2374,

"How plead you to the first charge, guilty or not guilty?"

"Not guilty."

"How plead you to the first specification, guilty or not guilty?"

"Not guilty."

"How plead you to the second charge, guilty or not guilty?"

"Not guilty."

"How plead you to the second specification, guilty or not guilty?"

"Not guilty."

"How plead you to the third charge, guilty or not guilty?"

"Guilty."

"How plead you to the third specification, guilty or not guilty?"

"Guilty."

"How plead you to the fourth charge, guilty or not guilty?"

"Not guilty."

"How plead you to the fourth specification, guilty or not guilty?"

"Not guilty."

"I have appointed, as Member Judges of this court's Trial Board, Captain Rahadan Sastrowardoyo of Star Fleet Intelligence, Commodore Mandi Livingston of the Star Fleet Provost Marshal's Office, and, in a nod to your personal status as a Star Fleet Marine Corps major specializing in Special Operations, Special Operations Brigadier James Pepe," he pronounced the name PEH-pee, "and Special Operations Lieutenant General Scott Akers of the Star Fleet Marine Corps. Commander Robinson, I direct your attention to your right to ask for substitute officers if you feel that any of these named harbor prejudiced attitudes that may harm your case."

"I accept their services as Trial Board Member Judges reluctantly and under protest, sir," said Robinson. "I have, inadvertently, harmed or insulted all four of these officers in the past by my conduct. There is no need for me to detail it in these proceedings, as it is listed in full in a report that Commander FrioDraca has written in my case."

"Do you consent to the service of Commander Tholin as prosecuting officer?"

"Reluctantly, Admiral. His attitude towards me when we first met, earlier this morning, seemed to indicate that he might harbor, while not exactly such an anti-terrestrial bigotry as would be grounds for dismissal from the service, a dismissive view of humans at the very least."

"And do you consent to my own service as President Judge Of The Court?"

"With more enthusiasm, sir. Indeed, it's only your service in that capacity that prevents me from asking for substitute Trial Board Member Judges or another prosecuting officer. Most of Star Fleet is aware of your record as an Intelligence Officer under the code name Bold One. This means two things. First, if the Trial Board does return a finding of guilty, then your understanding of my unique situation will prevent justice from being carried to excess. Second, if it returns a finding of not guilty, then your familiarity with my situation will protect me from excesses in mercy."

"Commander Tholin, as prosecuting officer and judge advocate, you may now present Star Fleet's case. Do you have an opening statement for the Fleet?"

"No, Admiral Vosseller. I do NOT have such an opening statement. But my joint legal counselor for the prosecution, Commander FrioDraca, does."

FrioDraca rose from his chair at the prosecution table. "Your Honors, the prosecution will show that the defendant, Commander Robinson, was insubordinate to Star Fleet regulations. It will show that he was sufficiently insubordinate to be willing to violate the Prime Directive in carrying out his first-contact mission to Bolgor, then perjure himself about it afterward. It will also show that Commander Robinson was a personal enemy of the decedent, Lieutenant Jay Ansky. And it will also show that he used his hate for Lieutenant Ansky as an excuse to throw him into the greatest danger of the crisis that resulted when the first-contact mission went as wrong as it did. Finally, it will demonstrate that Commander Robinson should never have commanded that mission at all, first, because he was not qualified for it, and second, because he actually obtained that command by insubordinate methods. Because of the deeds the defendant committed against him, Jay Ansky is not with us in this courtroom. But from his grave and the cenotaph now planted on the surface of this star base, he cries out for justice. Justice can only be served by the trial board returning, against the defendant, a finding, on all charges and all specifications of the preference, of guilty."

Commander ShadowRunner, a member of a sub-race of human colonists who had deliberately induced a genetic mutation in its representatives's DNA structures that had given them artificial lycanthropic powers, sat impassively in the gallery. His mere presence intimidated Robinson, even though the Assistant Chief Engineering Officer was now in his homid, or human, form. For when in homid form, ShadowRunner was the "spitting," or spirit and, image of the late Jay Ansky. It was as though Ansky were pointing an accusing finger at Robinson from beyond the grave--and it was yet more proof of one of Robinson's favorite observations, which he had already quoted to Vosseller, that the actual number of sizes and shapes for sapient life was rather severely limited.

"Ms. Wharton, do you have an opening statement for the defense?"

"Indeed I do, Your Gold-Stripeses," was the response. "The defense will show that the defendant, Commander Robinson, was insubordinate to Star Fleet regulations only because he lacked a clear chain of command to follow, and that if such a chain of command had been present, he would have been subordinate to it. Further, it will show that Commander Robinson's severely limited knowledge of the decedent, Lieutenant Jay Ansky, not only cannot be construed as hate for Lieutenant Ansky, but also reflects the fact that all the hate was on Lieutenant Ansky's side. It will show that there may be other explanations for Lieutenant Ansky's death and the failure of the first-contact mission that Commander Robinson commanded. It is a long-established tradition in armed military forces that peaceable societies maintain, and this applies also to the Star Fleet of the United Federation of Planets, that you do not obey an illegal order! The defense will show that Commander Robinson had received illegal orders, and that he only pursued improper channels in doing what he did because the proper channels had been, illegally, closed to him. He is guilty of the one charge AND the one specification relevant to that; he freely admits it. But on the other three charges and the other three specifications in the preference, the trial board MUST return a finding, against the defendant, of not guilty." She inserted the second chip into a personal displayer and handed it to Robinson. "The formal preference against FrioDraca is displayed on the PADD my client is holding."

"Before Commander Tholin calls his first witness, it is only fitting to inform Commander FrioDraca that charges and specifications have indeed been formally preferred against him as well," Vosseller said. He turned to Robinson and added, "You may read the preference."

Robinson read aloud: "Charge One: negligence in and dereliction of duty. Specification One: in that, on or before stardate 51357.6, by such negligence and such dereliction, Commander FrioDraca, Duke Of Draca, did fail, by omission, to denote such a clear and accurate chain of command as, had same been so denoted, would then have enabled Lieutenant Commander Robinson, Christopher T., to follow it. Charge Two: conduct prejudicial to the good of Star Fleet. Specification Two: in that, by such failure of such omission, Commander FrioDraca, Duke Of Draca, did negligently cause and/or motivate Lieutenant Commander Robinson, Christopher T., to bypass lawful chain of command, in lieu of required following of the same." The date he had given was twenty-seven seconds short of 12:35 hours on Monday, May 11.

Vosseller nodded and turned to face FrioDraca. "Commander FrioDraca, Duke Of Draca, Star Fleet, also known as Lieutenant Colonel FrioDraca, Duke Of Draca, Star Fleet Marine Corps, you have heard both charges and both specifications officially preferred against you, have you not?"

"Yes, and quite clearly. Commander Robinson has a powerful enough voice to be a field herald."

"Be that as it may, how plead you to the first charge, guilty or not guilty?"

"Not guilty."

"How plead you to the first specification, guilty or not guilty?"

"Not guilty."

"How plead you to the second charge, guilty or not guilty?"

"Not guilty."

"How plead you to the second specification, guilty or not guilty?"

"Not guilty."

"Do you consent to the concurrence of legal proceedings in your case with those in Commander Robinson's?"

"Yes, I do."

Vosseller seemed satisfied with this statement. "Call your first witness," he said to Tholin.

"I call Fleet Captain Siandierra."

The Commanding Officer made her way to the witness stand, where she sat down. The computer identified her in a tinny voice that sounded, at least to Robinson, quite similar to that of Counselor Estrazhi. "BEAUTELIER, SIANDIERRA ANJULEE. SERVICE RANK: FLEET CAPTAIN. POSITION: CLASS ONE CAPITAL STARSHIP COMMANDING OFFICER. CURRENT ASSIGNMENT: U.S.S. SOVEREIGN. COMMENDATIONS AND AWARDS OF VALOR--"

"IF IT PLEASE THE COURT!" Wharton interrupted angrily.

"Court recognizes counsel for the defense."

"The defense concedes the record of Fleet Captain Siandierra."

"Mr. Tholin?"

"It is a major point of Star Fleet's case that Fleet Captain Siandierra has better qualifications than the accused to judge a situation, by dint of her longer and more extensive record on active regular duty. Commander Robinson, by his own choice, spent eighty-three years in suspension of animation, and even though his Star Fleet commission and his officer's license were both valid for that entire time, it can hardly be considered active regular duty."

"The defense maintains its objection!" Wharton snarled. "However well-intentioned she may be, this witness can't perceive every aspect of a potential crisis. No one can, for that matter!"

Vosseller was forced to concede the logic of Wharton's argument. "Sustained."

Tholin's antennae drooped. He faced the stand. "If you recognize the accused, state as whom."

Siandierra nodded as she responded, "Yes, I do indeed rrecognize the accused; I rrecognize him as Lieutenant Commanderr Chrristopherr Thomas RRobinson. He is both my Intelligence Officerr and my Inforrmation Officerr."

"How would you rate him as an officer?"

"Academically, outstanding. But in terrms of conduct, only fairr."

"What makes you consider him only a fair officer in terms of conduct?"

"The brreaches of Starr Fleet decorrum that he has committed."

"Can you detail any of them?"

"Rratherr than detail them, I prreferr to say that they forrm a cerrtain patterrn of conduct."

"And how would you describe that pattern?"

"A rratherr cavalierr attitude towarrds rregulations--forr the most parrt, he is generrally obedient to them. Howeverr, he is enthusiastic, which leads him to overrrride orr ignorre prrotocols that he believes interrferre with his effectiveness as an officerr."

"I see. And to what do you ascribe this pattern?"

"Commanderr RRobinson is a man out of his own time. In many situations, he trries to brring Twenty-Thirrd Centurry apprroaches to Twenty-Fourrth Centurry prroblems."

"And what is your view of this conduct?"

"It tends to interrferre with the usefulness of Twenty-Fourrth Centurry apprroaches, which arre the apprroaches I have made it clearr I prreferr to use," Siandierra explained.

"Does that extend to your granting clearances for first contacts?"

"It has to," the Commanding Officer responded. "Missions of explorration and discoverry arre not ones you can easily trrust to a lone monkey who tends to use old methods. If you can everr trrust him at all."

Tholin said, "In other words, you were reluctant to grant Commander Robinson clearance for first contacts because he does not always follow procedures that are standard now if he believes those that were standard once are more effective?"

"He possesses a keenerr sense of judgment about rrisky situations than most otherr memberrs of my crrew," Siandierra conceded. "Wheneverr his judgment has contrradicted his perrceptions, in the long rrun, the perrceptions have prroven wrrong. Always." She shook her head. "But his trrouble is that he neverr waits forr rregulations orr orrderrs to catch up with his perrceptions."

"And on that basis, you refused him first-contact clearance?" Tholin pressed.

"I neverr actually rrefused it to him," Siandierra corrected. "I merrely had not finalized grranting it to him when he volunteerred to command that firrst-contact mission."

"That will do," said Tholin.

"Your witness, Ms. Wharton."

Wharton rose from her chair and snapped at the Caitian, "Fleet Captain Siandierra, exactly why did Commander Robinson even need to apply for first-contact clearance in the first place?"

"Because he had neverr had it beforre."

"Oh? And why not?"

"He had neverr been on any firrst-contact missions."

"And yet you gave him command of one! Why did you do this?"

"I was overrrruling and counterrmanding orrderrs from my Chief Securrity And Tactical Officerr, Commanderr FrrioDrraca, Duke Of Drraca," Siandierra explained.

"And what did those orders say?" Wharton challenged.

"They werre that, in subsequence of the Andorrian mission in which Commanderr RRobinson rrejected the offerrs of assistance that Lieutenant Jay Ansky, my Diplomatic Officerr, had made to him beforre that mission, he was not to be perrmitted to parrticipate in otherr missions that might have diplomatic imporrtance."

"Why did you overrule and countermand those orders?"

"Everry mission has diplomatic imporrtance of some kind, especially firrst-contact missions, and only if you parrticipate in them can you develop experrience with them. You need experrience with firrst contacts forr yourr Commanding Officerr to decide whetherr to grrant you such clearrance. Thus FrrioDrraca's orrderrs werre illegal because they would have denied Commanderr RRobinson such experrience. I had to overrrrule AND counterrmand them."

The civilian criminal defender whirled on the Trial Board and roared indignantly, "Let the record show that the witness has acknowledged having had to overrule and countermand illegal orders that were given to my client!"

Though she was outraged at Wharton's conduct, Livingston said, "The record will so indicate." Then she added, "Counselor, your conduct is, to say the least, insulting. We are granting you leeway in this conduct because we are aware that you are participating in these legal proceedings with great reluctance and only because you would otherwise forfeit your license to practice law. There is, however, only so much leeway we can grant you in your conduct before you force us to hold you in contempt of court. You will have to bear full responsibility for the conduct of your case."

"I understand that, Your Professorship," Wharton said. "If it please the court, though, I wonder, for the record, if the proceedings themselves may not be out of order."

"That will be decided when the Trial Board reaches findings, and immediately before it publishes those findings," Vosseller admonished. "Continue with your examination of the witness."

"I have nothing else to ask her."

"You may step down," said Vosseller. Siandierra left the stand and returned to her seat.

"I call Commander ShadowRunner as a character witness."

The pseudo-werewolf took the stand, and the computer identified him. "SHADOWRUNNER, TRIBE OF AHROUN. SERVICE RANK: COMMANDER. POSITION: ASSISTANT CHIEF ENGINEERING OFFICER. CURRENT ASSIGNMENT: U.S.S. SOVEREIGN."

Tholin asked, "Commander, did you know Jay Ansky while he was alive?"

"We were not close friends, but I knew him. He and I were often mistaken for each other."

"What was his relationship with the defendant?"

"Prickly, to say the least."

"I don't understand--prickly?"

"It's not an easy thing to put into words, Prosecutor," ShadowRunner confessed. "You have to experience it. The best phrasing I can think of is that Lieutenant Ansky always seemed to me to be going out of his way to be hostile to Commander Robinson."

"Was this because of anything the defendant did that might have offended the decedent?"

"I really can't say. Try as he might, Commander Robinson could never get on Lieutenant Ansky's good side, so to speak. Jay was never pleased with anything Chris did, he would lash out verbally at Chris for little things that never bothered anyone else, and so forth--it was as though Jay, who was our Diplomatic Officer, had made up his mind never to be diplomatic around Chris."

"Can you specify any particular grievances the decedent had against the defendant?"

"That's the weird thing--I can't!" ShadowRunner confessed helplessly.

Vosseller asked, "Will the defense move to strike the testimony as nonresponsive?"

"HELL no!" retorted Wharton. "There may be something here that's much bigger than any of us are seeing right now--I just don't know what it is yet."

Shrugging, Vosseller said, "The testimony is included. Continue your examination of the witness."

"If it please the court," ShadowRunner said, "I did notice that Lieutenant Ansky--Jay--needed to pause whenever he spoke to Commander Robinson in anger, almost as though he were trying to avoid saying something. But I could never find out exactly what."

"Your witness, Ms. Wharton," said Tholin.

"No questions. I think Mr. Tholin asked everything I wanted to ask."

Vosseller appeared satisfied. "You may step down."

"I call Commander Dr. Selek," Tholin said as ShadowRunner rose from the stand and walked back to his seat in the gallery.

Selek rose from his own seat in the gallery and walked over to the stand. All present could see that he walked with the stoop of a hunched back. His eyes squinted behind his thick eye-glasses as the computer declared, "SELEK, PH.D. IN STARSHIP FIELD SCIENCES. SERVICE RANK: COMMANDER. POSITION: SCIENCE OFFICER. CURRENT ASSIGNMENT: U.S.S. SOVEREIGN. COMMENDATIONS: OCTO-STAR, VULCAN SCIENTIFIC LEGION OF HONOR. AWARDS OF VALOR: DECORATED BY STAR FLEET COMMAND."

Tholin began, "Dr. Selek, for the record, the weakness of your eyes and the hunching of your back are both the direct result of an accidental case of near-fatal radiation poisoning that you suffered in childhood, are they not?"

"Yes, sir," Selek confirmed. "My vision cannot be corrected without the eye-glasses I wear."

"How do Dr. Selek's disabilities relate to this case?" Wharton wanted to know.

"The prosecution wishes to show that these disabilities have not interfered with his observation skills or his perceptiveness," Tholin explained.

"All right, go ahead."

"One fact I perceived about Lieutenant Ansky was that he was not a popular officer," Selek said. "I myself could not cooperate with him very well, however much effort I invested in doing so. If I had such difficulties with Lieutenant Ansky, it is only logical to assume that Commander Robinson's difficulties with him were greater still."

"Why was he appointed as Diplomatic Officer of the Sovereign, then?"

"His appointment was purely based on his credentials as a political scientist," Selek explained. "For myself, I saw no logic in Fleet Captain Siandierra's decision, but she is my Commanding Officer, and I for one will not question the command decisions of my Commanding Officers."

"But Commander Robinson had no such compunctions, did he?"

"He is a Star Fleet officer, and as such, he does have them. It is, quite simply, that he refuses to allow them to interfere with his duties, so to phrase it."

"This does result in a tendency towards insubordination on his part, does it not?"

"Commander Robinson is not that kind of human."

"Yes or no will do, Doctor." Tholin was visibly exasperated with the Science Officer.

Selek responded with great reluctance, "Yes."

"Your witness, Ms. Wharton," said the Andorian.

"What would cause this tendency towards insubordination to emerge, Dr. Selek?"

"Well, one possible cause would be if he had reason to believe he had not received legal orders."

"And did he have such reason to believe that about the orders he had received from Commander FrioDraca on stardate 51357.6?"

"Yes, he did, ma'am," said Selek. "Commander FrioDraca's orders were an illegal interference with the assignment Commander Robinson had received, and was carrying out, for the purpose of securing first-contact clearance from Star Fleet Command."

"That's all, Doctor--you're excused." As Selek was rising, Wharton told the Trial Board Member Judges, "If it please the court, I'd like to call Commander Robinson to the stand."

Robinson was visibly deflated as he headed to the witness stand. Sitting down, he heard the tinny voice, which sounded so much like Estrazhi's own, declare for both the legal record and the benefit of the Trial Board Member Judges, "ROBINSON, CHRISTOPHER THOMAS. SERVICE NUMBER: SCC-47106-PG6401-11A. SERVICE RANK: LIEUTENANT COMMANDER, STAR FLEET; MAJOR, STAR FLEET MARINE CORPS. POSITION: INTELLIGENCE OFFICER, INFORMATION OFFICER. CURRENT ASSIGNMENT: U.S.S. SOVEREIGN. COMMENDATIONS: TRI-STAR, VULCAN SCIENTIFIC LEGION OF HONOR. AWARDS OF VALOR: KARAGITE ORDER OF HEROISM; WOUNDED IN ACTION, HONOR ROLL; TWICE DECORATED BY STAR FLEET COMMAND."

"Now, Commander, despite what these military machines indicate," and Wharton made the word "military" sound hideous and nasal, almost like a slur, when she said it, "were the Bolgoreans's phaser weapons indeed archaic ones at the time they attacked you?"

"Yes, ma'am, they were."

"Could you please tell us about it?" the attorney asked.

"In the first place, I'm at a loss to explain the errors in the extract from the shuttle's computer log. We were on a peaceful first-contact mission. Everyone here knows what mishaps can occur, and that all personnel on such missions need a special clearance, to guarantee that they'll adhere to the Prime Directive. I commanded that mission, which command I admit, for the record, I obtained improperly, without a valid first-contact clearance. And I have pleaded guilty to both that charge and that specification.

"Once I got command, the decisions were mine, no one else's. I've been accused of malice, since Lieutenant Jay Ansky came from a different time than I do. There was no malice. Lieutenant Ansky was the ship's Diplomatic Officer and also my Number One--my away team's second-in-command. And that was exactly how I treated him. It's been alleged that I acted as though I were not in Star Fleet, and leaked phaser technology the Prime Directive classifies. That is not so. The Prime Directive is older than Star Fleet itself, though it only became law after Star Fleet was organized.

"I come from a time when the Alpha Quadrant appeared far larger and much more dangerous than it does now. The dangers of starship exploration, not fully appreciated when I was a boy, had come to be by the time I became a man. By then, Star Fleet regulations sometimes perverted and/or prevented survival, but they kept their value. And General Order One, the Prime Directive of Non-Interference, is uppermost in value to a veteran Star Fleet officer like myself."

"Commander, are you speaking as if you want to be a veteran of service aboard the Enterprise?"

Irritated, Robinson snapped, "I don't want to be; I AM one. I lost the vision of my right eye as one of the boatload of children who weathered the Wrath Of Khan Noonian Singh after he sought revenge for former Lieutenant J.G. Marla McGivers-Singh's death. To be honest, I was quite surprised when I wasn't reassigned back aboard the Enterprise after my studies at the Vulcan Science Academy's Earth campus earned me membership in the Vulcan Scientific Legion Of Honor." He pulled off his dark-lensed eye-glasses to reveal his right eye, its eyelid hideously scarred and almost closed. Livingston appeared almost nauseated as she beheld the scars. "These scars on the lid of my right eye are scars I have not shown to anyone other than Doctor Who, as I refer to Commander Dr. Michael Keemer, before this date," Robinson went on to explain. "The situation in which my right eye was injured is described in my record. The scars themselves are a visible reminder of the fact that an eye that can see is not worth nearly as much as the lives of your shipmates."

He resumed his eye-glasses as Wharton asked, "Have you learned anything else in the service?"

"I was familiar with the history of the Enterprise before I enlisted in Star Fleet, so let me make one thing clear for the record. These proceedings, to me, have shown an appalling similarity to the case against James Kirk, when he was accused of causing Benjamin Finney's death. Everyone in this courtroom, especially Commodore Livingston, knows that Finney proved to have staged his own death in an unsuccessful attempt to ruin Kirk."

"Your point being?"

"In a similar way, I have reasons to believe that someone who held a grudge against me might, in turn, have staged the failure of the Bolgorean mission to ruin me. In that sense, Commander Tholin is the Areel Shaw of these proceedings. Admiral Vosseller is their Commodore Stone. You, Ms. Wharton, being my attorney, are their Sam Cogley. And I myself, of course, am their James Kirk. If the analogies that I've drawn hold up, and I won't be surprised if they do, then we still have to locate and unmask the Ben Finney of these proceedings."

"His motives would be different from Finney's, of course, if you're right," Wharton remarked. "And he might have left you with phony log entries in some way; if he's done that, we just don't know how yet. Did you notice anything unusual about the shuttlecraft you used, the Red Dragon Six?"

"Yes, I did," Robinson responded. "I noticed enhancements of the onboard scanners and sensors that were of a type I'd never seen before."

"Were you able to determine their purpose?"

"No, I wasn't. When I tried to ask about that, Commander FrioDraca warned me not to bother."

"What made him do that?"

"Technically, I'm not qualified as an engineer."

"I know that FrioDraca outranked you, but even so, didn't you have some knowledge of engineering in your own right?"

"Lieutenant Ansky, assigned to evaluate me for possible cross-training in engineering, never did."

"Why not?"

"He read my history as a passenger of the second starship Sovereign, of the Belknap's class, Naval Construction Contract Number Two Five Zero Five. It described how an Andorian, Lieutenant Tholon, had attacked me just before I was launched into suspended animation. To ensure my own survival, I had had to kill Lieutenant Tholon. Lieutenant Ansky took that so poorly that immediately after reading it, he accosted me in a passageway. He there told me that he construed my killing of Tholon as an attempt to trigger a diplomatic incident."

"What could have made him think that?"

"We were then on a diplomatic mission to Andor, whose people, he reminded me, still consider themselves subjects of the Epsilon Indi Star Empire. They view themselves this way though their government is now a representative democracy--a republic--and though their Emperor now has no real political power. They thus retain a feudal state and a code of honor, like the Klingons. One false move and I could have triggered another diplomatic incident."

Wharton was openly puzzled. "That doesn't sound very logical; how did you react?"

"I reminded Lieutenant Ansky that Lieutenant Tholon had attacked me solely because I'm human. Refusing to believe me, he offered his diplomatic expertise for the mission. I rejected his offer, convinced he did not know that Lieutenant Tholon and his family were evil. There was no incident, but Lieutenant Ansky complained about my conduct, angering Federation officials participating in the mission. Lieutenant Ansky was reprimanded and removed from the promotion list."

"Why did you recruit him into your away team to Bolgor?"

"He then had current clearance for first contacts that I lacked. His grievances with me were not relevant to the mission. Moreover, he was the Diplomatic Officer; for all my intellect, I am still not yet as adept at diplomacy as at direct action. I needed a master of political science, which Lieutenant Ansky was, as my second in command for the mission. In this mission, I was following Star Fleet personnel guidelines that have not changed in almost two hundred years."

"You heard Commander ShadowRunner's testimony about how you and Lieutenant Ansky didn't get along, and how nothing you did could pacify him. Can you explain anything that might have made him react to you that way, aside from the obvious of him and you being from different times?"

Robinson deliberated over his answer to the question for an especially long time, eight seconds by his own guesstimation, before he responded. "No."

"Your witness, Mr. Tholin," Wharton said.

"The prosecution has no wish to dishonor Commander Robinson, but facts are facts," Tholin said. "I am forced to invite the attention of the court and Commander Robinson to this visual extract from the computer log of the shuttlecraft Red Dragon Six."

The viewer winked on.

"Begin playback," Tholin went on. Then he addressed the Trial Board Member Judges. "What you are about to see is precisely what took place aboard the Red Dragon Six, and on the surface of Bolgor, during the Sovereign's Bolgorean first-contact mission."

The screen read "SHUTTLECRAFT LOG, RED DRAGON SIX. STARDATE 51407.8." Less than five seconds later, the viewer displayed the inside of the Red Dragon Six, the shuttle that Robinson had used as a landing boat for the Bolgorean mission. It also projected a semi-holographic image of Robinson himself, as well as images of the Sovereign's Diplomatic Officer, Lieutenant Jay Ansky, of its Communications-And-Flight Con Officer, Lieutenant Joseph Horton, who was now seated in front of the shuttle controls console, an anthropological officer from Selek's staff, and two of FrioDraca's security guards. Compared to the attitudes of professionalism that were visible in the expressions on the faces of the surrogates of the other members of Robinson's away team, the false Ansky was in a bad mood, and he was sulking. "You could have chosen a whole 'nother second in command for this first-contact mission, Commander," he was grumbling. "I'd like to know one thing about your reason for choosing me. Why are you taking my advice now, after refusing it before?"

"That will be quite enough, Mr. Ansky," the image of Robinson retorted. "We're about to land. How are you doing with the deflector-shield cloaking?"

"No sign of any detection so far," the Horton copy responded. "No sign of the Bolgoreans either."

"Early drone surveys of Bolgor showed that the natives were humanoid," said the image of Selek's anthropologist. "I cannot vouch for the intentions of individuals or the society, though."

"All hands secure for landing," Robinson's surrogate snapped. All the duplicates of the away team secured themselves in their chairs. "Mr. Horton..." and the copy of Robinson was more relaxed than usual as he spoke... "take us down."

"Just tell me where and we're there."

"Find a region as far from any population centers as possible. Set us down there."

"Done."

"Go forwards one hour," Tholin snapped. A vertical blur instantly became visible on the screen, with a loud, annoying insect-like buzzing audible behind it. It continued for some thirty long seconds till he snapped, "Hold." The images reappeared and struck impossibly stiff attitudes on the viewer. "Reverse," Tholin called out. Immediately, the images on the viewer ran backwards, silently, till he snapped, "Stop." The display froze. "Go forward with magnification through the shuttle viewports." Immediately, the image switched to an enlarged view through the viewports in the sides of the Red Dragon Six. "Commander Robinson is now bringing the Red Dragon Six to a landing on the surface of Bolgor, without apparent awareness of the Bolgoreans 'laying in wait.'" The Trial Board Member Judges were revolted at the hate and evil that was now obvious in the Bolgoreans's eyes. But Tholin took no heed of it and went on, "Go forward, normal view."

"Undog the aft hatch," said the false Robinson. "We'll need to be able to get back on board and off the surface before our shuttle is sighted."

Horton's duplicate worked imitation controls on the dummy console.

"Jay, you go first," the doppelganger of Robinson added. "I'm too blunt and honest when I speak, and I don't sugar-coat my statements. I'll need someone whose specialty is convincing chatter to extend our first olive branch."

"Aye, aye, sir," the Ansky copy said reluctantly. He unhappily disengaged the simulacrum harness holding him in place and was on his way out the hatch when all of a sudden, wasplike snarls splitted the air. In seconds, PHASER FIRE had run the Ansky likeness through the right shoulder!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" groaned Ansky's image in agony as he fell out of the dummy Red Dragon Six's replicated hatch, apparently dead.

"We've got to get out of here!" Robinson's surrogate gasped in horror. "Lift off, Mr. Horton, now!"

The magnification of the images on the viewports dominated the viewer as the doppelganger of Horton worked the simulacrum launch controls.

"Freeze playback!" Tholin declared. "If the court will notice, the log plainly shows the defendant and his team under attack from the Bolgoreans, who are firing phaser rifles. The phasers they are firing at his team can clearly be seen to be modern rifles. Not archaic rifles, but definitely MODERN ones." He glared at Robinson, his expression the most vicious it had ever been during the proceedings. "When the mission to Bolgor was conducted, THE UNSPOILED INDIGENOUS CULTURE THAT THE AWAY TEAM EXPECTED TO FIND HAD ALREADY CEASED TO EXIST!"

From the witness chair, Robinson was not even paying attention to the prosecuting officer. He had just seen what he knew could not have been possible for him. His only response was the same as James Kirk had given in his own case, and like Kirk, he so responded only after the passage of twenty long seconds and in a shocked stage whisper of a voice.

"But that's not the way it happened."

* * * * *

Back in his quarters, Robinson was arguing with Wharton and Estrazhi. All three were agreed that the evidence that Tholon had presented, as a holo-playback, to the Trial Board was damning. But Robinson suspected that even his own attorney had begun to doubt him.

"It's said that computers don't lie, Cheryl," he was saying to her. "Are you insinuating that I DID?"

"I'm suggesting that maybe you did get confused," was Wharton's response. "It was possible for you, what with all the strain you were under--having to keep dangerous secrets from the wrong people, getting contradictory orders and all that."

"There's still time to change your plea," Estrazhi noted. "Ms. Wharton could get you off."

Robinson was, at that point, in a vein of musing. "Two days ago," he muttered, "there were few things I wouldn't have staked on my judgment."

"You did," said Estrazhi. "You staked everything."

Wharton noted, "You spent your whole life dreading having to make decisions like that one." Then she asked rhetorically, "Is it possible that when the moment came, you made the wrong one?"

The counselor said, "You can still pull out." Then she tapped the intercom pad and spoke. "Estrazhi to port-master's office--we may be in a position to discuss--"

"ROBINSON HERE--NOTHING DOING!!!" Robinson interrupted in a sudden explosion of rage. "I have no intention of altering ANY of my pleas to Charge One, Specification One, Charge Two, Specification Two, Charge Four, OR Specification Four IN THE LEAST!! Those pleas WILL STAY as they are now, which is STILL NOT GUILTY!!!" He whirled on both the counselor and his attorney, his eyes blazing with roaring infernos behind the dark lenses of his eye-glasses. "I know what really happened on Bolgor, on that first-contact mission. I KNOW what I really DID!!" He glared at Estrazhi. "Counselor, contact Main Bridge--get me Chief Warrant Officer Elvass D'Qing. He should be serving as Frio's reliefer at Security And Tactical, what with Frio assisting Tholin in my prosecution and me confined to the base."

She reluctantly complied.

"Elvass here," the Klingon Chief Warrant Officer acknowledged with irritation that could be felt through the channel. "What do you want, Commander?"

"The Trial Board of the court seems about to return a finding of guilty as charged, and specified, on all counts," Robinson remarked. "What did Dr. Selek find in his survey of the computers?"

His irritation somewhat calmed, Elvass reported, "Nothing, Commander. Not a single thing."

"The law of mean averages means you can't win every fight. Not that this was the one to lose."

"You aren't talking like a warrior now, at least not from what I'm hearing. You seem instead to be talking as though your honor has been compromised."

"Did you find out who broke into my quarters or how they did it?"

"Not yet. It's even more frustrating than trying to find a cloaked Romulan Warbird without using tachyon fields."

"It's not all bad, Chief Elvass," Robinson said, trying to be nonchalant. "Who knows? Your next Intelligence Officer may be another Arne Darvin. Robinson out."

On the Main Bridge, since Robinson could no longer see him, he had no way of knowing that Elvass was snorting with flared nostrils and letting out a low "Grrrrrrrr" under his breath. It was clear that the Klingon was furious at the reference.

"Arne Darvin," the chief warrant officer growled angrily.

Now pacing back and forth in his quarters, Robinson had also fallen into another vein of musing. "I never fully trusted that new doctor we took on board just last month, Ensign Sherman Reid."

"Didn't he intern in an Andorian hospital?" Estrazhi asked.

"That he did--specializing in surgical alterations. And Frio wanted him to be his primary physician?"

"Hmm...come to think of it, he did seem to spend more time with Jay than he did with Frio."

"That's not all--Sherman seemed to be scared of Jay all the time," Robinson noted. "It was almost as if he knew something about Jay that I didn't...something he didn't feel safe sharing with me."

"What could that have been?" Wharton asked.

"I can only assume the worst," Robinson confessed. "The only Star Fleet personnel who willingly submit to undergoing surgical alterations are spies like me. Those help us infiltrate the spied-upon, since only Vendorians and Antosians know the technique of cellular metamorphosis." He paused to recall an Academy briefing he had once attended. "Vendor II is quarantined, and the Vendorians, non-humanoid cephalopods, are still psychologically unfit to participate in communities of worlds. And Antos IV, a Federation member, limits its participation in UFP affairs to what little participation subspace channels permit--the Izarian Garth, then captain of the Constitution I, almost died there. Their knowledge healed him all right, but it sent him off the deep end too!"

"And now his exploits are forbidden reading at the Academy," Estrazhi shuddered. "And to think we used to be required to read them!"

Wharton entered a vein of musing of her own. "Another demonstration, it seems, that you can't always judge a book by the cover. I wonder...."

Turning to Wharton, Robinson said, "Well, I have to go and change clothes--get into that damned dinner uniform again, much as I hate it; are you ready?"

Wharton looked somewhat thoughtful. Still in a vein of musing, she responded cryptically, "No...but I may be GETTING ready."

The something outfitted in the life-support suit made its way to the transporter room and used its site-to-site controls. The difference was that now it carried something under its right arm.

A low, mocking laugh came from behind the helmet the creature wore as it faded out.

The creature materialized beneath the surface. It had no sooner recovered its orientation times three than it sought out a particular subsurface passageway, carrying the object with it. The low mocking laugh again sounded from behind the helmet.

Selek, who was still wearing his dinner uniform with its white outer tunic and platinum inner tunic, entered his Computer Labs to find Elvass sitting there. The Chief Warrant Officer was snarling in anger at something that he had evidently just uncovered.

"So that was how he evaded our most thorough searches for him!" the Klingon was grumbling in indignation under his breath. "That dishonorable, cowardly impostor!"

Selek spoke up at what might just have been the wrong moment. "I had to see it to believe it."

"What are you talking about, Vulcan?"

"The court-martial is almost certain to convict Commander Robinson on at least one of each of the four charges, and the four specifications, that have been formally preferred against him," Selek remarked, "and here you are running a medical database search!"

"That's true."

"Chief Elvass, you are the cruelest and most vicious, barbaric individual I have ever known."

Elvass grinned in response. "Why, thank you, Dr. Selek," he said. "I may have found a reason to be."

"But that is impossible."

The Klingon gestured to the screen perched next to him. "See for yourself."

Selek saw, and was alarmed. "But that is impossible too."

Elvass shook his head from side to side no. "Your examination of the Red Dragon Six's computer has confirmed its mechanical flawlessness. That means that, logically, its report of the Intelligence Officer's guilt is infallible." He then noticed the puzzlement in Selek's restrained expression. "Yes, we Klingons ARE capable of logic, as difficult as that fact may be for a Vulcan to grasp."

"But you could not accept Commander Robinson's guilt, and you tested the computer's program banks?" Selek noted. "Did that test disclose any discrepancies?"

"Yes, it did. I had programmed it myself for humanoid life-sign comparisons less than a month after we launched from Space-Dock, on FrioDraca's orders."

"And it disclosed that there were some members of the crew who were not what they claimed to be? Say, an alien sapient disguised in a known group?"

Elvass was stunned. "That last discrepancy is exactly what it disclosed. Your perceptiveness never ceases to amaze me."

"Well, why are you simply sitting there?" Selek asked. "We should be bringing this to the attention of the court!"

"That will have to wait till I get into my dress uniform and secure my dress baldric," Elvass noted. "But the results of another scan I conducted are inside this tricorder." He handed the tricorder, now secured with four bands of an alloy of duranium and tritanium, to Selek. "The results of my comparison are on this tripolymer sealant-ruggedized isolinear optical chip." He handed that over to Selek as well.

Taking both the chip and the tricorder into his left hand, Selek used his free right hand to tap his communicator badge pin and said, "Transporter room, stand by. We are beaming down."

* * * * *

"Remain seated and come to order; this court is again in session," Vosseller said. "The board will entertain motions before deliberating its findings. Counsel for the prosecution?"

"Sir, the prosecution rests," Tholin said, even as Selek and Elvass re-entered the courtroom and made their ways over to Wharton. Just as Elvass commenced to whisper harshly but unintelligibly into Wharton's left ear, Vosseller asked her, "Counsel for the defense?"

No response.

"Ms. Wharton?"

Still no response.

"Ms. Wharton!"

"If it please the court, new evidence has just been brought to my attention. I'd like to ask the court for permission to present it before I rest the defense's case."

"Of what nature is this new evidence, Counselor?"

"Telling you isn't gonna do it justice--I'm gonna have to show you. I do have one thing to say about it, though--it makes you stuffed collars look rather bad."

Tholin was visibly disturbed. "Ms. Wharton is well known for her anti-military tirades."

"I'm saving the career of a hapless victim of unfortunate circumstances," was the retort. "Now how does that qualify as an anti-military tirade?"

Vosseller, his patience worn thin, snapped, "Counsels will direct their remarks to the bench!"

Wharton instantly jumped at the chance, and roared in pent-up frustration, "I'd be more than delighted to address the bench, you rotten stuffed uniforms, now that I've finally got something civilian to talk about to the five of you! Society, you brassheads--civilian society!"

She paced in front of the bench, and it was clear that she was in a fine fury.

"The Hellenistic Era," she added harshly. "The Imperiums of Rome. And of Byzantium, Holy Rome, and the Ottomans. France's Napoleonic Empire. And the British. Germany's Second and Third Reichs. Russia's Soviet Union. The Post-Atomic Hegemony of Europe on Earth. And the Hegemony of the Gorns. The pre-Federation Tyranny of Vega IX. The Tholian Assembly and its highly unpredictable Territorial Annex. The Cardassian Union. And the Romulan and Klingon Empires. In case it's escaped your phaser brains, these historical governments have all trampled on civilians!!"

Somewhat taken aback, Tholin could only concede, "Your Honors, the prosecution concedes this. It is aware that not all governments in recorded history were formed by free choice of the peoples they governed. And it acknowledges that in the past many governments have ignored the rights of civilians in favor of the military--"

"And some of them still do!" Wharton shot back. "Civilians electing other civilians to public office to represent their points of view--having governments of civilians by civilians for civilians--but most importantly, control of armed forces by a civilian--these are all necessities for civilian governments! And if it forgets that it has any or all of them, then the Federation becomes just another tyranny. And one right whose survival no tyranny, anywhere, ever, can tolerate is the right to freedom of opinion--a right to which my client was denied!"

"Your Honors, that is ridiculous," Tholin scoffed. "The prosecution produced the witnesses in this court. My learned opponent had the chance to see, confront, and cross-examine each of them--"

"All but ONE, you military son-of-a-BITCH!" Wharton corrected angrily, now even more furious than ever. "You deliberately left one witness neatly out of the picture, because that witness could easily have thrown your case ass over teakettle."

"Which one was that?" Vosseller wanted to know.

"The most devastating of all the witnesses Commander Tholin has against my client is not a living being. It's a machine, an information system. One that was built by civilians, but had been specifically intended not to be USED by civilians. That devastating witness is the computer log of the Sovereign. In order to grant my client the right to confront that accuser, I hereby move that the court establish a two-way interface with that vessel."

Finding his indignation, Tholin insisted, "I protest, Your Honors."

"And I repeat, I'm speaking of civilian RIGHTS in societies!! Machines haven't any. A man's GOT to. My client has the right to face his most devastating non-civilian accuser. Keep denying it to him and you've brought us civilians down to the level of the military!" She glared at Vosseller directly. "Indeed, you've elevated that military ABOVE us civilians!" She calmed down somewhat.

"I ask that my motion be granted. And more than that, happy-triggers--in the name of civilians, faced with being trampled into extinction under the jack boots of the military, I demand it."

Her face flushed with rage.

"I DEMAND IT!!!" She paused to catch her breath. "AND RIGHT NOW, DO YOU HEAR ME?? RIGHT NOW!!!"

Wilted at the rage with which she had bawled them out, Vosseller and the Trial Board Member Judges immediately held a brief conference, obviously to give Wharton's motion due consideration. At last, Vosseller said, with great reluctance, "Motion granted."

* * * * *

On board the Sovereign, Senior Captain Traci Giorgianni was sprawled, groaning in agony from fresh injuries, on the deck of her Warp Engine Room. Two Support Services Section ensigns also sprawled on the deck, the one a Bolian engineering officer from the planet Bolarus IV and the other a human security guard, were dead. In the SickBay, Commander Dr. Michael Keemer was faring no better. A human doctor on his staff was dead too.

"Giorgianni to SickBay," came an anguished voice over the intercom even as Keemer was trying to hoist the corpse to an ad hoc autopsy table.

Irritated, Keemer responded, "Is it an emergency, Engineer? I'm trying to pick up the pieces here; some maniac just ran wild through my SickBay and killed one of the doctors on my staff."

Giorgianni groaned, agonized, "That madman tore through my Warp Engine Room--stole some fuel from one of the antimatter pods. I'll need medical attention myself, and I've also got two dead people here. One of them is on my staff and the other is one of Frio's guards."

"You sound like you're in no position to get here yourself, Traci. Can you walk?"

"No, I CAN'T, damn you!" howled the Chief Engineering Officer in obvious pain. "My back hurts like hell, and my left leg feels like it's been broken!" She looked down at it through a haze of pain and felt the left leg of her breeches, where the pain was worst, with her left hand. It felt wet. Lifting her left hand to just in front of her eyes, she was shocked to find it dripping red. "My mistake--my left leg has been broken, and the fracture site is bleeding!"

An open-wound-compounded fracture! That possibility frightened Keemer into crisis thinking. Any first-year Med School student knew, as did most laymen, that such a fracture meant danger of infections!

In the SickBay, he whirled as if shot and glared at two of his nurses-orderlies, at both of whom he snapped, "Well, you two just heard our Chief Engineer! Get a med-table over to Warp Engineering, and double-time it before that leg wound of hers gets infected!"

The nurses-orderlies were already breaking a mobile med-table out of a locker even as he was speaking, and one of them was also breaking a portable medikit out of another locker. They now grabbed the med-table and headed out. Turning back to the intercom, Keemer tried to reassure Giorgianni. "Just hang on, Traci. Help is on its way."

The nurses-orderlies reached Giorgianni within the minute. They promptly lowered the med-table to the deck and grabbed her bad leg and her midsection in order to help her slide onto it.

"On the count of three," said one of them. "One, two, three!"

"OW!" cried Giorgianni as the nurses-orderlies helped her slide onto the table. "Watch it there, you klutzes! My back hurts too, don't forget that!"

The other nurse-orderly promptly broke a heavy-duty spray applicator out of the portable medikit he was carrying. This he used to apply a massive dose of an antiseptic-anesthetic field-dressing compound to the Chief Engineer's leg wound, where the broken bone had actually pierced through.

"Just relax," he said. "We'll have Keemer tending to you in no time."

It did not take "no time" before Giorgianni was tended to in the SickBay. It took two minutes. But three more minutes later, Keemer had used a bone-knitting laser on her broken left leg and a large anabolic protoplaser on the open wound that had compounded the fracture. "Do you think whoever attacked you and killed that engineer and that security guard also killed that doctor on my staff?"

"Positive," Giorgianni said as Keemer handed her a solid tritanium cane that he had broken out of a locker. "That's not all--I managed to run a check on the fuel pod gauges before I contacted you. There's a whole isokilo of antimatter missing from one pod."

"So whoever attacked you stole it, just like you said."

"Obviously. But why?"

"Not to escape from the star base, certainly. You can't even fuel a travel pod with only an isokilo of antimatter."

Giorgianni blanched in horror as she got to her feet and, using her cane for support, as much limped as walked to one of the SickBay's two aseptic entry lobbies. "But you can prime a bomb with that much of it. What was the name of the doctor that maniac killed?"

"New recruit by the name of Sherman Reid--ensign by rank, just came aboard last month. He had interned in an Andorian hospital before he was assigned here."

Then came the sound of the boatswain's whistle. "Star Base Two Hundred And Seventeen Comm Central to U.S.S. Sovereign."

Giorgianni, who had not reached the aseptic entry lobby, thumbed the bulkhead intercom panel. "Giorgianni here--what the hell's going on down there?"

"This is Admiral Vosseller calling from the General Court Room of Star Base Two Hundred And Seventeen--are you all right, Giorgianni? You sound bad."

"I'm acknowledging from SickBay," said the Chief Engineer, unable to avoid cringing in bone pain from the aftereffects of her injury. "I had to have Dr. Keemer set an open fracture of my left thigh. And one of the doctors on his staff, Ensign Dr. Sherman Reid, is dead. So are one of my engineers and one of the guards on Frio's team."

On the surface, FrioDraca was visibly alarmed. "Sherman Reid had been recruited at my request, sirs. I had hoped he could become my personal physician."

"Why did you hope he would, Commander FrioDraca?" Akers asked.

"He had interned in an Andorian hospital before he was recruited."

"Could that have been why he was murdered?" Robinson speculated. Addressing FrioDraca, he went on, "Dr. Reid would not have been the best personal physician for you, sir. He specialized in surgical alterations."

"WHAT??" This from Pepe.

"With all due respect, I think you heard me, Brigadier--sir."

Pepe was not pleased. "Admiral, if Dr. Reid was murdered because he knew too much, that may explain some facts about this case that simply aren't adding up otherwise."

"There's only one way to tell. Set up that interface."

Selek came forwards. "I have greater knowledge of computers than most personnel in this court," he said. "Allow me to arrange it."

"Proceed," Vosseller said with a nod. He went on to ask, as Selek worked controls on the bench console, "Chief Elvass, did you program the Sovereign's computers for any unusual tasks?"

"Yes, I did," said the Klingon chief warrant officer in response to the flag officer's question. "As then-Lieutenant FrioDraca ordered, I personally programmed it to compare humanoid life-signs almost a month after the Sovereign launched. I gave it the broadest capacity our science permits to detect intelligent aliens disguised in known groups to which they do not belong. In theory, computers cannot make errors. Assuming we do not either, no such aliens should have been detected. And yet, we have consistently detected at least one such disguised alien since Lieutenant Ansky came aboard."

"Commander FrioDraca, did you give Chief Elvass such orders as he cites?" Wharton asked.

"That I did, Counselor," FrioDraca confirmed. "We had launched less than a month before, and I was still a lieutenant by rank then. Chief Warrant Officer Elvass had been particularly troubled at the possibility of an intelligent alien disguised in a known group infiltrating our crew and undermining on-board security."

Elvass added, "The crimes of Arne Darvin, a Klingon spy surgically altered to look human, were what troubled me at the time. In the Twenty-Third Century, he tried unsuccessfully to interfere with an agrarian colony settlement on Sherman's Planet. What he failed to count on was tribbles eating a quadro-triticale shipment meant for the colony after he had infected it with a virus that turned into an inert material in an organism's bloodstream when eaten."

"If Lieutenant Ansky was human, shouldn't he have registered as one?" Wharton asked.

"That question calls for a conclusion from the witness," said Tholin.

"Not a conclusion--a hypothesis. There is a difference." The civilian human smirked.

"Indeed there is," Livingston agreed. "Answer the question."

Elvass nodded. "Yes." His voice became a low growl. "But the computer says that he did not so register."

As the Klingon spoke, Selek completed the tricorder connection.

Wharton asked, "Now assuming he really was human, why should that be the case? If I were one of his shipmates, I'd never try to fool anyone about it."

But it was Robinson who gave the response to his own attorney's question from his seat behind the defense table.

"Because he wasn't truly human." The spy's face bore a shocked expression.

Sastrowardoyo glared at Wharton. "Any more outbursts from your client--"

"Judges Of The Court-Martial," Wharton roared viciously at the Trial Board Member Judges, not allowing Sastrowardoyo to finish his admonition, "I submit to you that the real Lieutenant Jay Ansky was never a member of the Sovereign's crew!"

"Ms. Wharton, that is an extraordinary statement," Tholin said. "Can you offer proof?"

"Yes, if I have the court's cooperation."

"You've got that," said Pepe. "Major Palanx was my good friend, and one of Captain Siandierra's crew. The idea of his record as the Sovereign's Operations Manager being smeared, AND by his failure to find and unmask an identity thief hiding among his shipmates before it was too late, really sticks in my craw."

"The interface is ready, Judges Of The Court-Martial," said Selek. He tapped his combadge. "Selek to Sovereign SickBay--Dr. Keemer, are you ready?"

"Keemer here," said the Chief Surgeon from his office, now displayed on the main viewer. "As ready as I'll ever be." He worked controls on a console as he spoke. "Interface on-line--Chief Elvass's program standing by."

"Run program," Vosseller ordered.

In the SickBay, readings from the diagnostic scanners and the various communicator badge pins formed a database that the doctor now studied with the utmost attention to detail. On the surface, the main viewer was filled with a series of jagged lines and points on graphs. But the display made no sense to the Trial Board Member Judges, the President Judge Of The Court, the judge advocate, the defender, or, indeed, to anyone else in the courtroom.

"What's the big idea, Dr. Keemer?" Vosseller snapped in continuation. "Is this a defense evidence exhibit or some stupid idea of a joke on your part? We're in a court of Star Fleet law, not some second-rate holotheater on a remote planet just starting to support--"

"If your Honors will excuse me," Keemer broke in, "there's no simple method allowing the layman to read information into that display. We doctors need extensive training for that." He bent over and studied the display carefully. What he beheld horrified him and alarmed Tholin. "A mismatch."

"Is there a name for that record and that vital signs track?" asked Akers.

"Yes." The doctor was astonished at what the database had disclosed. "Name, Jay Ansky. Service rank, lieutenant. Position, Diplomatic Officer. Current assignment, U.S.S. Sovereign."

"And you are still detecting life-signs from that combadge?" Sastrowardoyo wanted to know.

"Affirmative," Keemer admitted. "Don't ask me exactly how it happened, but apparently someone pulled the plug too soon on Jay."

The revelation struck the Trial Board Member Judges and the President Judge Of The Court with all the force of a one thousand-metric tonne meteorite.

"So Ansky, or whoever has assumed his identity, is alive." This from Livingston.

"It would certainly seem that way," FrioDraca noted. He pulled another tricorder out of a pouch at his own right hip as he spoke and carefully planted it beneath Robinson's white outer tunic, relying on the velcrite pads on its casing to hold it in place.

"Admiral, the crimes Tholon's family committed against me are exclusively my problem for now," Robinson pointed out to Vosseller. "I'd appreciate it if no one else left the courtroom." He asked Sastrowardoyo, "Do you have any idea which way I should go to reach the main reactors?"

"I'll guide you by communicator," Sastrowardoyo said. He reached underneath the bench. "Here. Take my phaser rifle with you." He handed Robinson a modern compression phaser rifle.

"Why should I?"

"If you are dealing with Jay Ansky, or whoever's calling himself Jay Ansky, chances are he'll be armed. So it'll be best if you're armed as well."

* * * * *

Less than five minutes later, Robinson was deep underground, below the surface of Star Base Two Hundred And Seventeen. Though he held a phaser rifle in his own hands, he had his suspicions that his enemy, whoever that enemy was, would also be armed with a phaser rifle.

Moreover, he was not a physically perfect human. His body mass was much higher in fatty tissues than it should have been, which he believed was due to some sort of metabolic condition. Keemer had been unable to diagnose or identify, least of all cure, that condition--if indeed it was curable.

Underground, his breath shortened as he was forced into the greatest physical exertion he had had to apply in literally eight decades. He stopped, took a deep breath, and then challenged, "Show yourself! I'm here if you want to speak to me!" No response. "Who are you?" Robinson called out. "Where are you?"

Still no response for five long seconds. Then suddenly, an ugly voice called out in mocking tones from his right, "Hello, Earthling."

Robinson tried to respond--only to find he couldn't speak. No words were in him--only memories of Lieutenant Tholon. The voice he had just heard sounded almost identical to that of the Andorian who was now over eight decades dead.

"Nothing to say, Earthling?" Then the speaker added with relief, "I've been waiting literally YEARS to say that to you--to call you the Earthling you are, AND as the slur it is and always will be."

The Intelligence Officer found his voice. "Your voice sounds like that of Lieutenant Tholon, but you can't possibly BE that villain! He's been dead for eighty-three years!" Robinson paused in sorrow. "I ought to know; it--was me who...killed him."

"Of course it was, you wretched Earthling!" the voice retorted. "Because the native of Fesoan you call a villain was my grandfather--VICEROY THOLON--THE MAN YOU DESTROYED!!"

"Tholon was a VICEROY? In the Andorian Imperial Court?" This was a fact about the renegade he had killed that Robinson had neither known nor, at that, considered when he rejected Jay Ansky's offers of assistance. "Was he related in any way to Sidre Ael Sardelas?"

"He was Heir-Apparent Prince Sidre's FIFTH COUSIN, Earthling!" A blue-skinned fist lanced out from Robinson's right side and knocked the phaser rifle out of the Twenty-Third Century survivor's hands. "My entire family has been waiting for this glorious moment for decades--the moment when my grandfather's assassin will finally die in eternal shame!"

Robinson turned to his right as a mocking maniacal laugh erupted from the speaker's throat. What he saw horrified him.

It was the spirit and image of the late and unlamented Lieutenant Tholon, as if resurrected from the dead. But subtle changes were visible in his appearance.

For one, his Star Fleet duty uniform was of identical design to Robinson's--and its tunics both showed signs of phaser-energy damage. For another, at the bases of the Andorian's antennae, scars, as if of hasty reconstructive surgery, were visible. For a third, the tint of the Andorian's skin was not uniform. Instead, it varied widely, as if completely bleached and later hastily re-pigmented. And for a fourth, the Andorian was armed, carrying just such a modern compression phaser rifle as the one he had just knocked out of Robinson's hands.

The Twenty-Third Century survivor knew instantly that this Andorian, of course, was not Viceroy Lieutenant Tholon himself, whom he had had to kill eight decades before.

Attempting to control his horror at beholding such an enemy with an effort that made him shake, Robinson asked, "What's your name, Lieutenant, if not Tholon?"

"I am Thulon, son of Thelon, son of Tholon, Imperial Viceroy of the Epsilon Indi Star Empire," was the response. "And, as you can see, Earthling, a lieutenant in Star Fleet."

Back in the courtroom, Tholin and FrioDraca were both horror-stricken themselves. Thulon, as the other Andorian had just identified himself to Robinson, had a voice that sounded exactly like that of ShadowRunner in homid form, and hence that of the late Jay Ansky.

For his part, ShadowRunner was grinding his teeth against each other in fury and doing all he could to resist the temptation to employ his artificial lycanthropic powers.

"Let me get this straight," Robinson was saying. "You murdered the real Lieutenant Jay Ansky, whilst he was on his way to join the Sovereign's crew, and not only took his place in its complement but also stole his identity?"

"He had access to modern phaser rifles that I needed, and besides, what better way to keep track of our Earthling enemy than to disguise myself as one of his own kind?"

In the courtroom, FrioDraca asked, "How long do you believe Tholon's family had been planning this perverse revenge scheme of theirs?"

"Offhand," Tholin responded, "judging by the way we Fesoan tend to hold grudges against those we believe have wronged us in some way, I would guess approximately eighty-three years."

"Easy enough to prepare nanoprobes that could intrude on a junior officer's quarters and find out whatever their preparer wanted to know--I don't think you realize how porous the security protocols for your own quarters really are!" Thulon was sneering.

"How did you hide among us--and pass yourself off as Diplomatic Officer Ansky?" Robinson asked. "There was just no way you could have done all this without accomplices."

"Yes, I did have helpers. One of them was a doctor. An ensign by rank in Star Fleet. Sherman Reid, his name. And an Earthling." Thulon spat the slur in what Robinson now knew was his customary contempt. "He was assigned aboard just after you captured that Borg drone, All Of One. Actually, Earthling, I'm surprised you didn't know about his background in Star Fleet Intelligence."

"Oh, I wouldn't exactly say that I didn't know about it," Robinson retorted. "I had my suspicions, once I learned that he specialized in surgical alterations, but no proof till you confessed, just now. You tricked him into passing you off as Jay Ansky?"

"I took advantage of your delays in launching to smuggle myself aboard your shuttle. That way, I could pose as Jay's clone and extort him into reversing the alterations he had originally conducted. But Sherman Reid was asking too many questions. He had to die."

"And that phaser rifle you're using to hold me at bay--one of the ones you obviously smuggled onto Bolgor before my shuttle even launched? How did you disguise them as archaic ones?"

"Easy enough to build holographic projectors into all those rifles so that they'd appear archaic to the naked eye," Thulon sneered. "But I also enhanced the shuttle's scanners and sensors so that they'd pierce all holoflage but my own."

"You--were using--holographic CAMOUFLAGE?" The out-of-his time human was aghast. "WHY?"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" Thulon laughed in sadistic pleasure. "A wonderful thing, holoflage; it can hide an object in plain sight--and even make the living seem dead!"

Back in the courtroom, Vosseller was horrified.

"Shades of Ben Finney!" he gasped.

"So Robinson was right!" This from FrioDraca.

"Put the phaser rifle down, Thulon."

"Oh, I wouldn't kill just YOU, Earthling. Your own death would mean too little to you and those around you. But your record--"

"What about my record?"

"It's erased!" Thulon exulted. "I've destroyed it!" Wicked glee radiated from his expression. "I've planted a bomb in the vicinity of the planet's main dilithium reactor!" He smirked. "Once that bomb explodes, it'll tear away the atmosphere of the whole planet--and the entire Federation will blame YOU for having destroyed this star base!" He laughed maniacally and mockingly. "And the Epsilon Indi Greater Star Empire WILL destroy ALL Earthlings in the UNIVERSE!!!" He again let out a mocking maniacal laugh.

"What did you make that bomb out of, and where did you get the materials?"

"Oh, it was easy enough to steal an isokilo of antimatter from the Sovereign's engines--your Warp Engine Room is poorly guarded as is!" Then the tone of his voice changed, and his deep-seated hostility came to the fore. "Guarded and staffed by Earthlings and Earthling-lovers! Not a one of them deserved to live--I only wish I could have murdered them ALL, instead of just those two!"

From her office near the Warp Engine Room, Giorgianni was beside herself with rage. Some Chief Engineer she was! She couldn't even properly guard the damned fuel supply for her own ship, which the Sovereign was in many more ways than it was Siandierra's.

But she was blaming herself needlessly. The entire Seventh Fleet had been fooled. Even Robinson himself had not fully grasped the extent of the evil that had been meant to destroy him.

"How long before it detonates?"

"What difference does that make to you, Earthling?" Thulon spat angrily. "Your fellow Earthlings and Earthling-lovers will never find it in time!"

Aboard the Sovereign, Giorgianni, partly from pain, partly from near-panic, and partly from rage, snapped at the transporter operator, "Engineering--Giorgianni here--destabilized antimatter bomb near Star Base Two-Seventeen's main dilithium reactor--pinpoint it and beam it into empty space FAST!"

On the planet's surface, Tholin was noting, and pointing out to the Andorian nobleman assisting him in presenting his case, with anxiety, "Your Highness--Commander--we've got to get out of here, and soon!"

"If your Honors will hurry to the shuttle bays--" FrioDraca began.

"Mr. FrioDraca, the court has not reached findings in either of the two cases it's hearing--yours or Mr. Robinson's," Vosseller reminded him. "We'll hear this witness out--and hope the Sovereign finds and destroys that bomb in time."

"Aye, sir," FrioDraca responded in disappointment.

Underground, Robinson was pointing out, "It's not too late for you, Thulon. We can help you, but if you kill all those people--"

"Why shouldn't I? Those Earthlings slaughtered my HOUSE, didn't they?" Thulon's voice suddenly thickened with rage. "Besides, YOU killed my GRANDFATHER--and you and your reputation will both die eternally shamed and damned for it--when you destroy the entire planetside location, AND KILL ALL THE PERSONNEL, OF STAR BASE TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTEEN!!"

"Is Commander Tholin of the Star Fleet Legal Division included in that deal?"

"What do you mean by that?" Thulon demanded to know, suddenly appalled at the implications. "You called him--Tholin? Is he Fesoan?"

"Oh, didn't you know?" Robinson explained. "He's the legal counselor who's prosecuting my case in these proceedings!" He watched with grim satisfaction as Thulon's arrogant fanatical expression suddenly became stricken. "And yes, he is Andorian!"

"WHY DID YOU DO THAT??" Thulon gasped, horror-stricken. "WHY DID YOU INVOLVE HIM IN ANY OF THIS???"

"We didn't 'involve' him; he VOLUNTEERED to prosecute me!"

Thulon's voice dissolved into an insane scream in response to this news. "Why, you wretched filthy Earthling--I'LL KILL YOU!! I'LL KILL YOU ALL FOR THIS--HOW DARE YOU TURN ANY ONE OF MY OWN PEOPLE AGAINST ME!!!"

With that he lunged at Robinson, throwing away his own phaser rifle as he did, and threw all his strength into a left-handed haymaker to the lower right rib cage that doubled Robinson up in pain as some of his own ribs broke. Since Thulon normally outpowered him, Robinson grabbed the rifle he had been forced to drop with his right hand as he fell and slam it two-handed, like a club, into Thulon's midsection. But as he did, it became clear to the out-of-his-time human that these were not normal circumstances. For Thulon was now weak from long concealment without rations.

Sudden searing pain made the Andorian Viceroy scream as the stock of the compression phaser rifle clipped one of his exobones through both of his tunics. Falling over Robinson, he scratched fiercely at the human's face with his own right hand as the spy was trying to get to his feet.

The long sharp fingernail of the middle finger of Thulon's right hand gouged a deep long vertical cut into Robinson's right cheek.

Grimacing in pain from the wound, Robinson hammered Thulon's left thigh with the phaser rifle stock, making the Epsilon Indi Viceroy howl in agony as his leg exobones and his thigh endobone broke from the impact.

He retorted with a left-handed uppercut that made Robinson's teeth and jaws ache dully and also worsened the existing bleeding of the human's cheek wound. Harmless enough to Thulon himself; except that it also made Robinson accidentally squeeze the firing trigger of the phaser rifle he was still holding--and graze the Andorian's right shoulder with the phaser energy!

Thulon grimaced in pain as the phaser energy struck both of his tunics where they had been damaged in the weapon-fire from one of the phasers he had smuggled to the Bolgoreans and fell to the floor of the reactor caverns, unconscious.

"Pinpointed, Chief," came the operator's voice over the intercom back aboard the Sovereign.

"DO IT!!" screamed Giorgianni.

The transporter operator who was working the controls could not tell, as the bomb was located and beamed into empty space, whether Giorgianni was panicky or in pain. Maybe it was a mixture of both that made her scream the order.

Then all of a sudden, a violent shock wave struck the Sovereign, toppling Giorgianni out of her seat and making her scream for a second time, this time unmistakably in pain. At the same approximate time, on the surface, a loud whump shook the air of the atmosphere.

Akers whistled. "That's one court-martial I hope never gets repeated in MY lifetime."

ShadowRunner could restrain himself no longer. "We have to get to where Robinson and Thulon are now--they probably injured each other in their fight." As he was speaking, the pseudo-werewolf employed his artificial lycanthropic powers and transformed into his full lupine form.

Pepe and Akers scrambled out from behind the trial board bench, Akers breaking out a set of prisoner restraints from beneath it, even as Vosseller was jumping from his own seat.

"Lead the way, Commander," the flag officer said.

With ShadowRunner, in wolf form, leading them by literally sniffing out the spoors of both Thulon and Robinson, the humans scrambled down the passageways. ShadowRunner reached Thulon and Robinson first. He howled in alarm upon seeing Robinson, whose right cheek was still bleeding. Vosseller, Pepe, and Akers, guided to the howls, reached him within the minute.

"You'll need medical attention," the port-master said as Akers snapped the restraints on Thulon.

"Have Doctor Who treat my cheek injury so that it leaves a scar," Robinson said liplessly.

"You want a scar down your right cheek?"

"It's a James Bond thing, Admiral," the Twenty-Third Century survivor pointed out, still liplessly. "If James Bond could have a scar down his right cheek, why can't I have one down MINE?"

* * * * *

Vosseller, Akers, and Pepe filed back into the courtroom. Robinson, his right cheek still bleeding, followed them. With them, in restraints, was Lieutenant Thulon. Four Star Fleet Marines, all gigantic human males outfitted in full-dress uniforms, affecting glowers of undisguised hostility, and carrying compression phaser rifles, had also entered the courtroom and now stood nearby. ShadowRunner, back in homid form, held Thulon on a long chain connected to the restraints. These he promptly handed to a Star Fleet Marine.

The effect looked almost comically like a man held on a leash.

But as he saw Thulon, FrioDraca was not smiling. Indeed, he could not control his rage.

"So you're REALLY to blame for this, Your Viceregal Highness," he spat. "You despise terrestrials that much? Fine. Now they have reason to return the sentiment. As for me, I don't particularly like being forced to give illegal orders the way I was." He turned to Sastrowardoyo and Livingston. "And the two of you may regard my last statement as a confession in open court."

"We will," said Livingston. "And it will be used against you when we deliberate our findings."

Wharton looked haggard. "Your Admiralties," she said more respectfully than she ever had during the proceedings, "the defense FINALLY rests." She allowed a long heavy sighing breath to escape from her mouth and slumped into her chair, next to Robinson.

Vosseller nodded. "Recess till Commander Robinson recovers fully from his injuries. During that time, we will deliberate findings of both cases, against Commanders Robinson and FrioDraca."

He turned to the Star Fleet Marines.

"Lock Thulon in a brig cell."

The Trial Board Member Judges filed out of the courtroom, and he followed them.

* * * * *

The deliberations of the Trial Board Member Judges of the court, in which Robert Vosseller Jr. also actively participated in his capacity as President Judge, took approximately nine days. During that time, Christopher Thomas Robinson and Traci Giorgianni both recovered from their respective injuries, and both Robinson and Cheryl Wharton provided Tholin with vital assistance in his next task: the drafting of a formal preference of charges and specifications against Thulon.

On the tenth day, the Trial Board reached findings in both Robinson's and FrioDraca's cases. As Scott Akers, James Pepe, Rahadan Sastrowardoyo, and Mandi Livingston filed into the courtroom, there was an air of tension amongst all present. It was stardate 51450.2, seven seconds after 07:45 hours on Sunday, June 14, 2374. Robinson sat next to Wharton at the defense table. His injuries from his fight with Viceroy Lieutenant Thulon had all healed, but his right cheek's already fair skin now bore a long thin vertical scar showing whitely down it, as he had requested.

It did indeed make him appear marginally Bondian.

With the four Star Fleet Marines, in prisoner restraints, was Viceroy Lieutenant Thulon.

Vosseller struck his bell twice, struck it twice more, and declared, "Remain seated and come to order; this court is again in session. Before I ask if the Trial Board has reached findings, I will rule on the question about whether the proceedings against Commander Robinson were out of order that the counsel for the defense has raised." He took his seat.

"I realize that Commander Robinson was violating orders that might have been illegal; the Trial Board will determine whether they were if it has reached findings. But refusal to obey illegal orders is one thing; deliberate insubordination, quite another. Obedience is one of the first laws of Star Fleet. Its junior personnel are not supposed to decide for themselves which orders to obey and which ones to violate. Doing that is a blank check for mutiny, and the absolute destruction of chain of command. And that, as a Star Fleet flag officer, I cannot permit. President Judge rules proceedings have not been out of order." He turned to Akers. "Has the Trial Board reached findings, General Akers?"

"Yes, Admiral Vosseller," said Akers, on behalf of all three of the others. "We the Member Judges of the Trial Board have reached findings in the cases of Star Fleet Versus Robinson, Christopher Thomas, and Star Fleet Versus FrioDraca, Duke Of Draca."

"Are these your findings, so say you one, so say you all?"

"Yes, they are, Admiral."

Vosseller nodded. "So noted. Let the record indicate that the findings of the Trial Board in both cases were unanimous." He turned to face Robinson. "The defendant and counsel will rise." He turned to the Trial Board as Robinson and Wharton got to their feet. "You may now publish your findings in the case against Commander Robinson."

"On Charge One and Specification One," said Sastrowardoyo, "we the Member Judges hereby find the defendant, Christopher Thomas Robinson, not guilty." An abnormally high level of tension slipped out of ShadowRunner's muscles, and he relaxed visibly.

"On Charge Two and Specification Two," declared Livingston, "we the Member Judges hereby find the defendant, Christopher Thomas Robinson, not guilty." Siandierra purred approvingly.

"On Charge Three and Specification Three," intoned Pepe, "we the Member Judges hereby find the defendant, Christopher Thomas Robinson, guilty, both as charged and as specified." FrioDraca regarded Robinson with open disapproval. From where he stood, Thulon scowled.

"On Charge Four and Specification Four," announced Akers, "we the Member Judges hereby find the defendant, Christopher Thomas Robinson, not guilty." Estrazhi shrugged.

"Does the defendant have any statements he wishes to make, for the record, before the court officially hands down its sentence in his case?" Vosseller asked.

"Only that I will not contest the findings or the sentence," Robinson said. "After all, I had pleaded guilty to Charge Three and Specification Three of the preference. I recognize the import of discipline in any chain of command, and I was unwise to breach it, illegal orders or no. Years before, I would have filed a protest--but I won't do that now. I like to believe that I've matured with time."

Vosseller appeared satisfied. "So noted. Christopher Thomas Robinson, it is the sentence of this court that you shall forfeit ten years of seniority and, until further contrary notice, your permission to command away teams. You are also officially denied first-contact clearance, again until further contrary notice. When that further contrary notice is given, you will be required to apply for it as if you had never possessed it before, and this denial of such clearance will be entered into the record as an argument against granting you the same. Also, you will be held in hack in the Sovereign's main brig, under solitary confinement, on bread and water, for a period of ten days. The first of those ten days will begin one hour after the Sovereign breaks orbit around this star base."

"Will I be reduced in grade?"

"No. But you will be sent to the bottom of the promotion list, and a punitive letter of reprimand will be written into your service record. Lastly, at all times when aboard ship and/or in your quarters, you will be required to maintain your door unlocked. The only exceptions to this will be when you decode Federation Intelligence Agency briefings pertaining to your duties. As the U.S.S. Sovereign's Intelligence Officer, you will receive such briefings. It will then be necessary for you, and required of you, to use a locked annex of the ship's computer." The flag officer got to his own feet. "Those particular exceptions to your sentence are made by a former Intelligence Officer specifically to enable a current one to carry out his duties."

"What about Thulon?" FrioDraca asked from his seat, gesturing to the back of the courtroom.

"He will be tried separately. As for you, the court deliberated findings in two cases. Commander FrioDraca will rise." Vosseller turned back to the Trial Board Member Judges as FrioDraca got to his feet. "You may now publish your findings in the case against Commander FrioDraca."

"On Charge One and Specification One," said Sastrowardoyo, "we the Member Judges hereby find the defendant, FrioDraca, Duke Of Draca, guilty, both as charged and as specified." Tension left Robinson's muscles, and he relaxed.

"On Charge Two and Specification Two," declared Livingston, "we the Member Judges hereby find the defendant, FrioDraca, Duke Of Draca, guilty, both as charged and as specified." From her chair, Wharton nodded comprehendingly.

"We the Member Judges in the previously named action further find that the orders that were given by Commander FrioDraca, Duke Of Draca, to Lieutenant Commander Christopher Thomas Robinson on or before stardate 51357.6 were NOT legal orders, that Commander FrioDraca should not have given them to Commander Robinson, and that therefore Commander Robinson should not have obeyed the same." This from Akers.

"Commander, have you anything to say before being sentenced?" asked the port-master.

FrioDraca shook his head from side to side no.

"FrioDraca, Duke Of Draca," Vosseller went on, "it is the judgment of this court that you shall be involuntarily relieved as the Officer-In-Charge to whom Lieutenant Commander Christopher Thomas Robinson reports directly in the course of his duty. A punitive letter of reprimand will also be written into your permanent service record, and your name will be removed from the Star Fleet promotion list. You will still be permitted to assign tasks to Commander Robinson directly, but he will report to the Commanding and Executive Officers of the Sovereign rather than to you. This court is aware of the possibility of Commander Telsek K'Mar, currently assigned aboard the U.S.S. Galaxy, being reassigned aboard the Sovereign in the near future. His Federation Intelligence Agency control officer is one of my own intelligence specialists, a man whose real name is classified information. His code name is Chip. I am officially assigning Chip as Commander Robinson's FIA control officer, and he will serve in the same capacity as far as you are concerned."

Downcast, FrioDraca said meekly, "I will not contest the findings or the sentence of the court."

"Then our business here is completed, as far as both Commander Robinson's and your cases are concerned." Vosseller struck his bell. "This court is adjourned."

Thulon was led away in the ungentle company of the four Star Fleet Marine guards, all four of whom dwarfed him in height and build. As he was being led away, he said harshly to Robinson, "You have not heard the last of my viceregal family, Earthling. Mark my words."

"Highly unlikely, Your Condemnation," FrioDraca said with mock respect. "The Draca Duchy now has all the proof it needs to hobble your family's power."

Thulon spat into FrioDraca's face. The Star Fleet Marine guards, all four of whom this gesture of contempt clearly insulted, promptly forced the viceroy away from the duke even more roughly than before. After Thulon was gone, Robinson turned to his former Officer-In-Charge and asked, "What about the mentor-protege relationship we had before?"

"That will not change. If Telsek takes my place, he will know how to handle you in my stead. And for all you know, he may be as skilled a teacher as I was."

"I hope so. With war between the Federation and the Dominion threatening, I'll need all the help I can get finding my place aboard ship."

Vosseller had not yet left the courtroom, however, and he now called out, "SCARLET!"

Whirling as if shot, Robinson glared at the flag officer. "What is it now--if you don't mind my asking, sir?" he demanded to know in annoyance.

"I thought I might like to invite you to a brief dinner before you return to serve your sentence."

"Perrmission denied," Siandierra hissed. "You have alrready waited too long--"

"BELAY THAT!" Vosseller interrupted. "Siandierra, I still outrank you. I want Chris as my guest."

"The Bold One's right, ma'am," the out-of-his-time human conceded. "You don't turn down dinner invitations from an admiral like him." He turned to Vosseller. "If I may ask, sir, what's on the menu? I may as well eat good before I take the consequences of breaching chain of command."

"One of my specialties. I call it 'Port-Master's Pot Roast.'"

Robinson licked his lips. "Yum."

* * * * *

Robert Vosseller Jr. and Christopher Thomas Robinson finished their meal of Port-Master's Pot Roast with mashed potatoes and gravy on stardate 51451.7, which was thirty-one seconds after 20:53 hours on Sunday, June 14. Tholin and Wharton then transported aboard the Sovereign with Robinson, Estrazhi, All Of One, Selek, Elvass, Siandierra, FrioDraca, and ShadowRunner. All now sat at the table dominating the Observation Lounge compartment.

"So we arre clearr on the matterr?" Siandierra was asking.

"I understand you perfectly," Robinson said. "During the service of my sentence, after I'm allowed out of the brig, I'm to report to Counselor Estrazhi at least once a day."

"You'll be quite a difficult patient," Estrazhi confessed. "I didn't get my nickname of 'The Berserk Betazoid' by accident, you know. Thankfully, I have a counselor myself; in my line of work I'd be in trouble if I didn't."

"It'll be a struggle to keep my own reason intact," Robinson confessed.

"You'll be all right, Chris," ShadowRunner reminded him. "At the very least, you have a clear chain of command to follow now--the one thing you insisted you didn't have at the court-martial."

"I only regret that I had to compile a criminal record as well, Christopher," FrioDraca noted, not without bitterness of his own. "I will prepare instruction manuals for you, so you can continue your academic training without my intervention."

"Will those manuals include law books?" Wharton asked.

"What need have SPIES to know the law?" Elvass scoffed. "The work they do is work without law, and therefore without honor!"

But FrioDraca responded, "Yes, they will. Sometimes, since intelligence personnel tend to operate in legal limbo, they need to know the law to know what chain of command to follow, and, often, to tell if there even is a chain of command."

"Well, that is different," Elvass conceded. "After all, a warrior fights by a law just as he lives and dies by a law, and spies can be viewed as secret warriors."

"Secret warriors who live by not-so-secret laws," the civilian attorney cracked. That drew a chuckle from Robinson, whom she addressed. "Do you think you can live with the sentence of ten days in solitary in the brig? And on bread and water?"

"Let me phrase it this way--it's better than having my career in Star Fleet permanently ruined," said the spy. "I don't quite know how to thank you."

"I'll be busy on a case for the next two weeks," Wharton said. "I'll be defending Lieutenant Thulon!" FrioDraca's antennae stood straight up in alarm. "I have a feeling I'll win."

Robinson shrugged. "I wouldn't be a bit surprised."

FrioDraca turned to All Of One. "Number One, do you believe you could take over as Commander Robinson's Officer-In-Charge after he finishes serving his sentence, since I have been involuntarily relieved of that duty?"

All Of One nodded. "I find that I agree with you about why discipline broke down in Commander Robinson's case. His efficiency would be vastly improved if he reported more directly to a chain of command with clearer definitions."

"If you will excuse me, I have to return to Engineering," said ShadowRunner, rising from his seat.

Siandierra nodded. "You'rre excused."

ShadowRunner left the Observation Lounge. After he was gone, Robinson turned to Siandierra and addressed her directly, asking, "Will I still be assigned to a position aboard the Main Bridge once I emerge from solitary?"

"Of courrse," was the response. "The differrence will be that yourr perrmission to command away teams is rrevoked till furrtherr notice."

FrioDraca noted, "I have word from Admiral Vosseller that one of my oldest friends, Telsek K'Mar, will be joining the crew within a matter of months." He turned to Robinson. "He's a Star Fleet Ranger. Will that cause any difficulty?"

"No," the out-of-his-time human conceded. "Probably not."

Wharton remarked hesitantly, "I find I do have to acknowledge...there are a lot of things to be said in favor of military discipline. I'm just not the one to say them."

"Well," Siandierra remarked, "life in this galaxy goes on. And so must the Soverreign."

Robinson told his former attorney, "I hope I don't need services like yours again any time soon."

Tholin said, "You know, for a human, you do have your good qualities. You simply need to know where and how to take the best advantage of them. Without that knowledge, you may find yourself facing me in court again. If so, then I won't be as comparatively merciful next time as I was this time." He and Wharton boarded the turbolift car and debarked from the Main Bridge.

It took some fifteen minutes for Tholin and Wharton to finish debarking from the Sovereign and signal that they were back on the surface of Star Base 217. Once they had done so, returning to her Command Con and addressing Horton at his Flight Con station, Siandierra snapped, "Take us out of orrbit, Mrr. Horton. Ahead warrp factorr one."

The Sovereign engaged its warp engines and accelerated to lightspeed.

VERY SPECIAL THANKS TO
MR. DONALD M. MANKIEWICZ
AND MR. STEVEN W. CARABATSOS,
WITHOUT WHOSE ORIGINAL STORY,
"COURT-MARTIAL: STAR FLEET VERSUS KIRK,"
THIS STORY COULD NEVER HAVE BEEN WRITTEN.