Surefoot 82: Persona Non Grata

He offered a controlled smile. "How about you leave the questions to me, Counselor, okay? And while I accept your argument about the difference between recreation and therapy, the principle of Necessity During Wartime stands. Many continue to serve even with serious wounds they have no time or opportunity to treat."

"Yes... and many fall."

"And at one point you were Counselor to the accused when he was still a cadet?"

"Yes, for three years."

He orbited slowly around the centre of the courtroom, in contrast to the stationary stance taken by Sasha. "Like many of us in Starfleet, his first experience with Counseling would have been during his years at the Academy, already a stressful and anxious time for young people. This is the time when a good Counselor would establish both the mental strength of a cadet, and lay the groundwork for their continued strength. Would you agree?"

Kami nodded. "Yes, Mr Maraud."

He drew up to her. "When I was at the Academy, I was taught about the importance of the Mirror. Could you explain the significance of that?"

She shifted slightly, her tail swishing slightly. "The Mirror involves developing a sense of self-awareness, an objective knowledge about one's own strengths and areas in need of growth, within your personality. In therapeutic terms, this perspective allows one to question their thoughts, feelings, and biases. It helps us to become better decision-makers, gives us more self-confidence, allows us to understand things from multiple perspectives and frees us from our assumptions and biases."

"And it helps us to recognise when we need help with problems we can't cope with on our own, and to seek out such help?" Maraud prompted.

Kami regarded him more closely now. "Yes. But there are times-"

He raised a hand to her. "Please, Counselor, if I may continue? The Mirror, a self-awareness tool, is there not just to protect the individual, but those around them, so if they feel like their mental health is compromised, then they can excuse themselves from active duty. Is that right? Yes or No?"

"In theory, yes, Mr Maraud, but in practice-"

He shook his still-raised hand to cut her off. "This isn't your first court-martial, Counselor. Just answer with a straight Yes or No."

She blinked, her gaze fixed... and predatory. "Yes."

"And while there is evidence that Ensign Beaudine continued to perform his duties on the Destiny without any appreciable problems, there is no record of him using the self-awareness tools you taught him to excuse himself from active duty on grounds of mental health. Is there, Yes or No?"

"No," she replied curtly.

"And your own more recent assessment of Ensign Beaudine confirms that, despite all he has undergone, not just with seeing combat but surviving in a Prisoner of War camp, without the benefit of Counseling therapy there. Which suggests, despite the efforts of the Defence, that his overall mental strength was not so compromised as to adequately explain away his actions on Kalandra." Another pause, and he finished with, "Unless your own abilities are not as great as your reputation would suggest? Which of course I would never wish to imply."

*

Tallus opened her door, holding her grandson Jaxan in her arms. "Captain Tamati?"

The female Roylan stood there, dressed in off-duty civilian clothes, immediately smiling at the sight of the youngster. "Professor, I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"I was about to change this little monster's diaper; that's not a disturbance, it's a blessing. You are aware that Weynik's still working on that court martial and is incommunicado?"

Tamati reached out and tickled under Jaxan's chin, making him gurgle. "Oh, I know, he left an apology message cancelling our, uh-"

"Date?" Tallus suggested, smiling now. "Let's call it that. I know it's been a thousand years since he's been on one, but it's a good label. So what brings you here?"

Tamati's fingers danced up to Jaxan's nose. "Well, our people are few and far between off our homeworld, I haven't seen any since... well, since I last ran into Weynik years ago. And now here's a whole family." She grinned. "It makes a change not straining my neck looking up at all the giants around us."

The Professor chuckled. "That, I can understand. Why don't you come in? I have some Roylan delicacies I keep in stasis onboard, and you can help me play with my grandchildren while I tell you a bit more about Weynik. That'll give you a headstart, because you'll find he doesn't open up much since his wife died."

Tamati's smile dropped. "He's a widower? He never said when we met for lunch before he was roped into this court martial business."

"Then here's your chance to catch up and shock him with your prior knowledge when he's released from Judicial Duty..."

*

Eydiir continued her testimony in her usual crisp, formal manner. "Ensign Beaudine has suffered from long-term physical trauma: neurological, circulatory and cardiac degradation, exhaustion, malnutrition, and numerous injuries with barely the chance to heal."

Sasha drew closer. "And these multiple acts of trauma you have detailed resulted from battles that took place prior to the incident at Kalandra? And not from his time immediately afterwards in the Dominion POW camp?"

"No. The Dominion quickly became aware of his identity and role in Starfleet and did not need to torture him for classified information. There was mild malnutrition, of course, and extended confinement, but ironically, compared with his time prior to Kalandra, Ensign Beaudine's time in the camp gave him an opportunity to rest and recover."

"And as a medical professional, can you confirm that these physical traumas can contribute to a temporary loss of judgement such as Ensign Beaudine experienced on Kalandra?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Thank you. No further questions."

Sasha was briskly replaced by Maraud, drawing up to the witness. "Chief Nurse, did you have the opportunity to examine other medical records within the Seventh Fleet besides Ensign Beaudine's?"

She frowned at him. "No."

"Not even general statistics?"

"No. Why do you ask this?"

Maraud shrugged. "Well, you just seem like the thorough type. On the other hand, I compared the medical records of the fourteen ships of the Seventh Fleet, including those of Ensign Beaudine's vessel the USS Destiny. Would it surprise you to hear that 384 personnel had suffered injuries comparable to or even greater than his during the course of the War? Not counting those killed outright, of course?"

Eydiir stiffened. "It... It would not surprise me. The War has devastated our numbers."

"And what would you say about the fact that, of those 384 others, no one else besides Ensign Beaudine exhibited erratic behaviour that led them to desert their posts when they were most needed?"

She raised her chin towards him. "I would say nothing."

"No? But wouldn't it suggest to you that the argument that the Defence has proposed, that the system of monitoring the mental and emotional health of Starfleet personnel had broken down, was not in fact true? Otherwise more would have reacted like Ensign Beaudine?"

She crossed her arms. "It would not. You mention the others suffered 'comparable' injuries. This is meaningless. It is the circumstances causing the injuries that determines how one is affected by them. A burn on your arm can be the result of an accident, a deliberate act of self-harm, or an inflicted act of torture, and psychologically you will react differently to each scenario."

Maraud nodded at that, now asking, "You're Capellan, aren't you?"

"I am from Capella IV. What of it?"

He walked around, in a lazy saunter, but never taking his eyes off her. "I've been reading up on them: a Pre-Warp race exposed to the concept of other worlds just over a century ago thanks to the Klingons, but who have managed to retain the integrity of their strong, austere, martial culture."

"Is there a point to your meandering babble?" she demanded.

Sasha rose to her feet again. "I have to agree, where is this leading?"

Maraud raised a hand. "It's leading to this: Chief Nurse Eydiir, your people utterly condemn the concept of cowardice as weakness. How do you reconcile this with defending Ensign Beaudine's base actions on Kalandra?"

"Objection, Your Honours," Sasha declared. "Chief Nurse Eydiir's culture is not on trial here."

"That's right," Maraud agreed. "It's about Ensign Beaudine. So I will ask one more question, in your capacity not as a Capellan but a Starfleet medical professional: in your examination of Ensign Beaudine and his medical history, did you find any physical anomaly that could directly, definitely account for his actions on Kalandra VII?"

Eydiir stiffened, before finally replying, "No."

*

Hrelle's stomach somersaulted as the Tailless did another sharp drop. Misha, dressed in his uniform and gripping the Manual Steering Column as he practised manoeuvring, kept whooping in delight, seemingly unaffected by the twists and turns. Hrelle kept checking the surrounding space; he had chosen an area with absolutely nothing to crash into for literally billions of kilometres... but a part of him still expected the unexpected. "Have you had enough already?"

"No! I wanna blow something up now! Like Starfleet does! It's fun!"

Hrelle leaned forward at his station and resumed control, bringing the flyer to a stop. Misha frowned at him. "Hey, no fair, Papa! It's my birthday!"

He turned in his seat to face him now, unbuckling his belt and leaning forward, his voice soft but firm. "Cub of Mine... Starfleet is about a lot more than blowing things up. We explore, we learn, we rescue, we bring people together in trade and cooperation, and a whole lot more. Fighting is the last thing we want to do, it's not fun and it's not nice. You remember all those people we saw who had been wounded when we were fighting the Jem'Hadar? When your Mama was almost killed? They didn't think it was fun. And if you try and get into Starfleet just to blow things up, you will not be allowed in. Is that understood?"

Misha dipped his head. "Sorry, Papa."

Hrelle reached up and stroked his son's head. "You don't have to be sorry, you just have to listen and learn-" An alert on his board drew his attention, and he checked it.

Misha watched him. "What is it, Papa?"

"Incoming transmission from Salem One... probably just Zir or your Mama checking up on us." He looked at him, smiling. "Why don't you go replicate us some lunch, and then afterwards you can show me how good you've gotten at Purr-Prowl-Pounce?"

The cub's eyes brightened. "Yeah!" He unbuckled himself and raced to the back of the flyer.

Hrelle turned, recognising the classified carrier wave behind the incoming signal and switching on his own signal scrambler.

A bearded Vulcan male appeared on the miniature screen beside him. "Commodore."

"Commander. I am assuming that your signal is undetectable to Station Security?"

"You assume correctly, Sir. Are you free to speak?"

"Yes. How has the court martial been going?"

"Lt Cmdr Hrelle's tactic is bold... bold enough to possibly work, however without more concrete evidence on the side of the Defence, it will be subject to interpretation by the Judges."

He nodded at that. "And have you been able to run an audit on the origin of the SSC?"

"With limited success, Commodore. It appears to be tied into a Starfleet Intelligence operation that existed prior to the Away Mission on Kalandra. An operation code-named Richard 343."

Hrelle frowned, not recognising it - and why should you, Esek? Are you the Head of SI or something? - and turned away, as if focusing on the subsonic frequencies he was detecting from some of the older embedded systems. "Greg Quinn commanded the Seventh Fleet during the War. His name was on the orders for Bill's team to investigate the Dominion facility on Kalandra... who ordered him?"

"That cannot be officially confirmed... but given Admiral Quinn's previous assignment in Operational Support, its ancillary work with both the Intelligence and Security services, and the efficiency by which certain datastreams have been filtered, I suspect this 'Richard 343' operation is at a relatively high, and potentially unsanctioned level. A level beyond my own reach... official, and unofficial."

Hrelle felt his tail twitch through the hole in the back of his seat. "Unsanctioned? As in Section 31 related?"

"I have sources which indicate that with the death of Section 31's leader, Admiral Ian Trenagen, many of his agents have gone to ground, and past and ongoing operations have been purged. If Richard 343 is connected, it may have been purged as part of the clean-up operation."

Hrelle ground his teeth. He thought he had seen and heard the last of that illegal organisation, which went against everything he stood for. "And Ensign Beaudine is the victim of this Cloak and Dagger bullshit."

"Assuming Section 31 is involved. If not, it may be possible to uncover the details of the operation from a Senior Intelligence Officer... should the officer choose to come forward. And preferably for all concerned to allow no direct connections to Lt Cmdr Hrelle. Beyond the obvious consequences of a ruling against Ensign Beaudine, I believe some might take offence to your daughter's stance, and take unofficial punitive actions. I would not wish anything like that to affect her future."

The Caitian eyed him with regard. "Haluk, I know of your past association with my wife's clan, and with the various intelligence agencies - the official and unofficial ones - but I want to thank you in particular for what you've done for Sasha, watching over her when she was under your supervision on Vulcan. And probably on Salem One, too, if my suspicions are right."

"It is my honour to serve. I did not expect to ever mentor someone on the List."

"List? What List?"

Haluk raised an eyebrow, and illogically, unnecessarily lowered his voice as he continued. "There is a List in Starfleet Command Headquarters. You will not find it in any official file or folder, but it exists, and has for many, many years, accessible only to those at the highest levels. It is a list of names of young people, officers and enlisted personnel, who have attracted the attention of Starfleet Command.

They are the ones who step forward when others might hesitate. They are the ones who don't just do their duty, but who go above and beyond, who take on responsibilities far beyond what would be expected for them. They are the ones who inspire others, the ones who will risk their lives and face seemingly impossible odds... and the ones who are tenacious enough, fortunate enough, to survive.

You may guess at some of the names that may have been on the List over the years. Some will be famous, most will not, but all will be considered redoubtable, and requiring protection and encouragement, in order to help them achieve their full potential... without the burden of knowing they are on this List, with so much expected of them."

Hrelle stared back, knowing how highly he had always thought of his daughter... but never expecting such regard to be shared at such levels. He didn't know what he thought of it. "You've done everything you can, and I appreciate it. Leave the rest to me."

*

Sternhagen was back in Hrelle's office drinking with Salvo, looking up through the transparent aluminium to see Louvois enter Ops, peer in their direction, and stride inside without asking. Sternhagen poured herself another shot of whiskey. "What can I do for you, Phillipa?"

Louvois stopped before the desk, shooting a look at Salvo, one that was returned... and spoke volumes to Sternhagen. "Where's Hrelle?"

"Well, I don't have specifics at this time, but knowing them, I'd say Counselor Hrelle is somewhere talking about people's feelings, Lt Cmdr Hrelle is punching somebody for insulting her Dad, Sreen Hrelle is in her quarters filling a diaper-"

"You know who I mean!"

Sternhagen blinked, then made a show of comprehension. "Oh, Commodore Hrelle: he's off-station, on a father-son trip. With his son."

"Doing what?"

Sternhagen shrugged again. "I don't know, whatever Caitian fathers do with their sons: fishing, drinking beer, talking about boobs, assuring him that tail size doesn't matter. I'm in charge in the meantime, so I'll ask again: what can I do for you, Phillipa?"

"Commodore Hrelle had orders from the Judge Advocate General's office to make the court martial of Ensign Beaudine public. But now I hear he turned them off."

Sternhagen drank. "He didn't. I did. My orders are on record."

The JAG Officer's expression tightened, and her stance grew more formal. "Those orders applied to his subordinates. Your actions could be considered Misconduct by some."

Sternhagen delayed responding, as if deliberately considering the argument. "I see. Well, some could consider that, but they'd be wrong. Anyone can view the court martial broadcast in the privacy of their own quarters, for whatever salacious purposes they might glean from it. But I don't intend to make a circus of it... despite all the clowns that have arrived here recently. Lieutenant Salvo, did you not have to quell a disturbance already about it when the Minotaur arrived?"

The Nova Roman nodded, looking a little amused by the conversation. "Yes, Captain."

Sternhagen looked back at Louvois. "And I've received reports from Commander Haluk of disturbances among the cadets stationed here. So, in my capacity as Station Master, I made a Health and Safety decision and stopped the public broadcasts."

"Restore them," Louvois insisted.

Sternhagen leaned back and put her boots on the desk. "No."

The other woman blinked, waiting for more, before responding, "Is that all you intend to say?"

"No, I'll also tell you to go fuck yourself."

Louvois' jaw dropped, her eyes flaring with outrage. "Excuse me? How dare you speak to me like that! My authority with the Judge Advocate General-"

"-Means absolute shit to me. I'm not some poor scared Ensign you can rake over the judicial coals because he fucked up fighting in a War to protect your sorry behind-the-lines ass. I'm older than you, I have more seniority than you, I have a higher position at this facility than you, and I don't give two tugs of a dead dog's dick about you or your JAGoff buddies. I can probably also knock seven shades of shit out of you if you keep pissing me off. So, if you want to file charges against me for my attitude, you go right ahead, Bitch, I know how much all that legal jargon gets your panties wet."

Louvois stood there, looking petrified with disbelief at the outburst, until Sternhagen pointed towards the door with her shotglass and an extended middle finger. "Go on. Come back when you can't stay so long."

Finally she turned and stormed out, so quickly she almost banged her shoulders into the sliding doors before they fully parted.

Salvo regarded the older woman with a mixture of apprehension and awe. "You really do not fear retribution from her?"

Sternhagen shrugged. "I have a distinct advantage over Louvois: I'm not a political animal out to make Admiral before I'm sixty. I'm only back in Starfleet because I owed one to Hrelle. Salem One will be my last assignment, and I'm happy to spend my golden years here working under the Fat Cat. At least you know you can trust him... unlike that bitch."

Salvo stared in the direction of the door. "She offered to get my Lieutenant Commander's pips back, if I caught Hrelle breaking his orders to stay out of the court martial."

"Yeah, that's about her speed."