Rules of the Game

Part 5


"You do understand the severity of the charges?"

"I do."

"Yet you refuse to present a defense against the statements that have been made against you?" Admiral Zimbaata asks.

"I cannot refute the statements given by Crewman Lessing or Commander Chakotay. Everything they have said is true," I announce to the members of the review board, keeping my expression pleasantly serene.

While I wait for my declaration to sink in, I glance around the room, taking in the muted gray and black of the table and walls, the very same hues that Starfleet headquarters and all its residents seem to be bathed in these days. I suppose it's meant to be soothing, non-threatening, but I just find it depressing. What I wouldn't give to see the color combinations Neelix would invent to liven up this room. Not to mention what he could do with these new uniforms. Somber is far too kind a word for the black pants and jacket with the band of gray at the shoulders -- the only color now being the slightest hint of command red at my collar and wrists. If I think too much about it, I might actually be able to feel the grayness weighing down on me, enveloping me, seeping into my skin.

God, I miss my old uniform.

I reach for my water pitcher and pour myself a glass, the sloshing noise sounding a bit unseemly in this quiet, sterile room. There is a pitcher and glass in front of each of us, a single data padd, and a retractable visual and audio recorder that rises from a small panel in the table. The table itself is oblong, and is probably supposed to convey a feeling of equality, but the four admirals sitting on one end opposite the lone captain give no doubt as to who holds the power in this room.

For now.

The admirals are all eyeing me with varying degrees of skepticism, not quite able to digest the fact that I'm apparently not going to defend myself. Some know me better than others -- Admiral Krauss taught me xeno-biology at the Academy, and I've run into Admiral Zimbaata at various Starfleet functions over the years. I only know Admiral Stapp by reputation, but even strangers know one thing about Captain Kathryn Janeway -- I never, ever give up.

Then of course there is Admiral Necheyev, the senior officer and head of this little inquiry, and the one person here who knows me best. Although Voyager was technically incommunicado with Starfleet for some 98% of our journey through the Delta Quadrant, Necheyev was still the Fleet Admiral to whom I addressed all of those ship's logs and personnel reports. But more importantly, at least to me, she sat in on that first fateful review board that coerced me into working with Tuvok. I can't help but wonder if Necheyev appreciates the symmetry -- that she was there for my first review board as Captain, and now she's here for what may very well be my last.

I notice the Admiral is watching me calmly, one eyebrow slightly raised, waiting for me to continue. Necheyev has become quite familiar with my tactics, and the relentlessness I've honed over seven years in the Delta Quadrant. She knows my reputation is well deserved because we've been going toe to toe with each other for weeks. In fact, today marks the third round in our series of ongoing battles.

Round One started before I even left the Delta Quadrant. From the moment Voyager reestablished communications with Starfleet, the arguments began over what was to be done with my Maquis crewmembers. Necheyev was at the forefront of a contingent that wanted the Maquis punished for their past, no matter what they had accomplished on Voyager. Of course I would have none of that. I argued that not only had the Maquis become part of my crew, but they had served Starfleet as well or better than any commissioned officer ever could, and deserved to be commended for it.

I even argued that it was precisely Voyager's melting-pot status that had helped us thrive where other Starships may have failed. Ironically, I went so far as to compare us to the Equinox -- a ship that had suffered a moral implosion precisely because of its homogeneous blend of personnel. With its all-human, all-Starfleet crew, the Equinox devolved into a dangerous cluster of inbred thinking that fostered an 'us or them' mentality. When faced with adversity, it led that crew to paranoia, murder, and ultimately their own destruction. By contrast, my crew's differences kept us innovative, helped us survive without giving up our principles. Every individual collaborating, every person contributing his or her unique abilities towards one mutual goal, making the whole so much greater than its parts.

Necheyev wasn't impressed with my rationale, but she couldn't argue with the results once Voyager returned to the Alpha Quadrant. After all, we made it home, mostly in one piece, while the Equinox did not. And, despite her protests, the public saw the members of my crew as heroes. Every single one of them, the past be damned.

Round One to Janway.

Round Two brought an entirely new battle -- what to do with a former Borg drone who has the entire knowledge of the Collective stored in her cortical node. Necheyev's answer was simple. She wanted Seven and her alcove moved to a military facility where her activities would be curtailed for a minimum of one year. During that time, Seven would be debriefed on all her knowledge of Borg deployment, weaponry, and tactics, and Starfleet would supposedly help her transition into Earth's culture. In other words, she would be confined, held captive. Like a prisoner.

Like hell.

Necheyev could have Seven over my cold, dead body. In fact I've told her so on three separate occasions. I will not stand by and let Seven become a victim of fear, paranoia and possibly revenge. I myself had been horrified to learn that as a Borg drone Seven had been on the Cube that attacked Wolf 359, the very same one that decimated the Federation outpost and killed Necheyev's husband. But my horror wasn't directed at what Seven had done, but at the threat that such knowledge posed for her fragile, still-developing humanity. The psychological ramifications of realizing she'd participated in atrocities against her own people. I'm well aware of the anguish Seven has faced because of her past, the agonizing remorse that haunts her still. And there is no way in hell that I'm going to let those feelings of guilt be compounded by some wounded Admiral intent on holding Seven personally accountable for the actions of the entire Collective.

Thank God the Janeway name still holds some clout in Starfleet, because I needed every bit of its influence to combat Necheyev's thinly veiled vendetta. It took weeks of maneuvering, horse-trading, and calling in every favor that has ever been owed either me or my father before I could finally arrange to have the matter quietly, formally dropped. Although certainly not forgotten. Not by me. And definitely not by Necheyev. But the end result is all that matters -- that Seven of Nine is now officially free, never to know about the little war I waged on her behalf.

Round Two, Janeway.

Now I raise my chin to Admiral Necheyev and my message is clear:

Ready for Round Three?

Necheyev accepts the challenge in my eyes, and generously provides my cue. "Captain Janeway, are you saying that you admit to the charge of attempted murder?"

"I am saying that I cannot refute the statements made against me. Factually, they are accurate. If this review board is only interested in facts, then I have nothing further to say."

Necheyev knows better than to rise to such bait, but Zimbaata doesn't. "What else would we be interested in, if not the facts?" she asks.

"Intent," I say. "Both Chakotay and Lessing's statements are true, from each individual's limited perspective. But I'm the only one who knows what my intentions were."

"You don't think your actions speak for themselves?" Admiral Stapp asks. I take a moment to regard him coolly. Lucas Stapp is the youngest Admiral on this 4-person panel, even two or three years younger than me, although I don't remember him from the Academy. He's handsome and he knows it -- dark brown hair, tanned skin that seems all the darker when his white teeth flash in that overconfident smile. He's full of himself, self-righteous, thinking he's the young, dynamic new force in Starfleet -- the next generation bound for glory.

But I know the truth about Stapp -- what he did during the Dominion War, the thing that got him promoted from his post on the Kashmir. 'The Kashmir Incident,' they called it. When his ship intercepted three Dominion-controlled vessels, Captain Stapp personally gave the order to fire on them until all 3 ships were destroyed, when crippling the ships may have sufficed. It was a decisive victory in the war, but there were 874 fatalities, most of whom were innocent people fooled by changelings into thinking they were serving Starfleet officers. But I suppose that's the kind of action that gets you promoted in times of war. The sheer gall of the man, though, to sit across from me and act like he has the right to judge my crimes when I consider his own far worse -- it makes my blood simmer. That's where I have the advantage, however. I know exactly who Lucas Stapp is, but I can tell he has no idea who I am.

But he's about to find out.

"Intent is the most important aspect of any attempted murder investigation," I answer. "I'm surprised no one has explained that to you." He glowers at the dig, but I continue unfazed. "And at the moment, this is still just an investigation. I'm not on trial here, as far as I know."

"No one is saying that you are," Necheyev says, her tone stern, rebuking one or both of us, I'm not sure. I have to fight not to smile. As much as I oppose the Admiral's viewpoints concerning my crew, I've actually come to enjoy our little clashes. I doubt she would appreciate why, however, so I keep to myself how much these confrontations remind me of a certain headstrong Borg who seemed to spend her first year on Voyager challenging me every time I turned around.

Admiral Stapp leans forward. "So, *Captain* Janeway," he says, emphasizing my rank in an obvious attempt to remind me where I sit in the chain of command. An attempt that is both puerile and futile. "If it was not your intention for Crewman Lessing to be killed by the creatures when you lowered the forcefield, then by all means, please enlighten us as to exactly what you had in mind."

"As I said, the facts, as stated, are accurate. I did indeed shackle Mr. Lessing to a chair and warn him that if he didn't reveal Captain Ransom's tactical status, I would drop the shielding in Cargo Bay 2 and allow the aliens to attack him."

"What was the purpose of this threat?" Admiral Zimbaata asks. Although I've known Lakmé Zimbaata for years, the sum total of all our conversations wouldn't equal 20 minutes worth of dialogue. But I've always liked her rich, melodic voice, with that slight hint of a Caribbean accent. The one thing I've gathered about her, that all my research confirms, is that she's a fair, honest officer, with a deep regard for the rights of sentient beings. I should be careful how I answer.

"I wanted Mr. Lessing to be terrified, afraid for his very life," I declare.

"So you admit that you performed a deliberate act of terrorism on another human being," Zimbaata states, disdain in her voice.

"I'm not proud of my actions," I admit. "But Lessing had refused outright to give me any information on Captain Ransom or the Equinox. I felt it necessary to coerce his cooperation so I could stop Ransom and thereby end the mass murder of innocent life-forms as soon as possible."

"So what happened after you threatened Crewman Lessing?" Admiral Neheyev prompts.

"I told Mr. Lessing that the comm channel would be left open in case he changed his mind and decided to cooperate. Then Commander Chakotay and I left the Cargo Bay, and I dropped the shields."

"What was Commander Chakotay's reaction to this?" Necheyev asks.

"He tried to stop me. He argued that Lessing would never betray his Captain, but I told him that I was convinced the former lieutenant would talk before the aliens arrived. Chakotay then tried raising the shields himself, blatantly ignoring my order to stand down."

"And was he successful?"

"No. I had locked out the controls so they could only be reinstated with a level 9 security clearance."

"So you anticipated Commander Chakotay's actions," she interprets.

Why thank you, Admiral Necheyev, for laying the foundation for my defense. "Yes," I nod, keeping my face expressionless.

"But what of Crewman Lessing?" Admiral Zimbaata queries. "Did he talk, or give any indication that he was going to give in to your demands?"

"He did not, but Commander Chakotay stopped the interrogation before it had a chance to succeed. When a subspace fissure began to form in the Cargo Bay, Chakotay opened the doors and sealed the fissure himself with a blast from his phaser. Then he pulled Lessing into the hallway before any other fissures could open and the aliens return."

"These aliens... when they made full physical contact with a humanoid, it resulted in complete desiccation at the cellular level, correct?" Admiral Krauss asks, the first thing he's said to me all day other than the brief greeting when we sat down. He never was much of a conversationalist, though, unless the topic was xeno-biological theory.

"It did," I answer, pausing to reach for my glass and take a sip of water. Too bad no one thought to remind the staff of my penchant for coffee. Or perhaps they did, and that's precisely why I'm stuck with this water instead. "I must admit that as a scientist I was personally shocked and outraged that the Equinox -- supposedly a science vessel -- was only interested in the aliens as a potential fuel source. Sentient beings who live in subspace -- we could have learned so much from them. But instead the Equinox crew subjected the aliens to brutal experiments, tortured and killed them, all for a slight increase in warp speed."

"From your observation, how long can the species survive outside of subspace?" he asks.

"Only for a few minutes." I take another sip from my glass. "Each time the aliens left subspace, they risked their own lives. But it was worth it to them to stop the Equinox from murdering more of their kind."

Krauss steeples his fingers under his chin, the same way he used to during class when he was particularly interested in a subject. "In fact, you were attacked by one of these lifeforms yourself, were you not?"

I nod, take another sip. "Yes, along with every member of my bridge crew."

"Getting back to the matter at hand," Admiral Necheyev breaks in, then asks the one question that is on everyone's mind. "Captain Janeway, did you or did you not intend to allow Crewman Lessing to be killed if he did not cooperate with you?"

I do so appreciate a direct and forthright woman. Straight, to the point, just the way I like it. I answer in kind. "I did not. I never intended for Mr. Lessing to die. I only wanted him to think that it was a possibility."

"May I point out that he was not the only one who thought that it was a possibility?" Necheyev remarks. "That your First Officer was convinced of this as well?"

"Again, Chakotay's perspective is limited."

"Limited?" Admiral Stapp repeats, his tone sarcastic. "How can his perspective be limited when the Commander says he was right there with you when you took the shields down?"

"Yes, he was there when I took the shields down. But Chakotay didn't realize I had also initiated a transporter lock on Mr. Lessing. As soon as Lessing agreed to tell me everything I needed to know, I would have beamed him to safety. Simple."

This one from Zimbaata -- "How could you be sure that Lessing would talk?"

"Lessing had proved himself a coward, as had every other member of the Equinox crew. They had killed innocent, sentient beings in order to further their own selfish ends. They had lied to us, then betrayed my ship, my crew, and Starfleet itself in order to save their own hides. I was absolutely convinced that Lessing would have given up his own mother to save himself, if given time. I still am."

"Commander Chakotay seems to think that you were willing to allow Lessing to die because you thought he deserved to. That your personal feelings of betrayal were driving you to seek vengeance against any member of the Equinox crew that you could get your hands on," Zimbaata points out.

"That's his perspective. But Commander Chakotay is not an expert on my feelings, I assure you." Not by a long shot. "Of course I was angry with the crew of the Equinox. And yes, I did feel like they deserved to be punished for their crimes. But I had absolutely no intention of personally executing Mr. Lessing, or anyone else, for that matter."

"But what if Lessing hadn't agreed to talk? Would you have allowed the aliens to come into contact with him?" Admiral Krauss asks.

"Of course not. I was monitoring the situation the entire time. I would have transported Lessing to safety before he was harmed."

"I must say, you did a thorough job of convincing Crewman Lessing that you were willing to let him be killed," Necheyev says. "In fact, Lessing claims that you described your course of action as 'poetic justice.'" She lifts her data padd, reads aloud from it. "He says, and I quote, 'I told Captain Janeway to go to hell when she threatened me. She replied that we all create our own hell, then she and Commander Chakotay left me shackled in the Cargo Bay, helpless. Moments later I heard the shrieks indicating that the subspace fissures were opening, and the aliens were coming for me. It was terrifying, sitting there, unable to move, hearing those screams. Sometimes I still hear them in my sleep. I knew then that Captain Janeway meant for me to die.'" Necheyev firmly places her padd on the table. "Did you think this was 'poetic justice?' Did you think that Lessing deserved to die for what he'd done on the Equinox?"

"My only thought at that moment was to get the information from him that would help me find and defeat Ransom. As long as the Equinox was evading us, I needed Lessing alive. He was no good to me dead."

"But if your intention really was simply to scare Crewman Lessing with an elaborate game of 'Good Cop / Bad Cop,'" Zimbaata says, "why didn't you tell your First Officer what you had in mind?"

"There was no time. Chakotay joined me after Lessing was already in place. And once we moved to the hallway, the comm channel to the Cargo Bay was left open. If I'd said anything to Chakotay then, Lessing would have heard what I was planning. Besides, I thought it would help if the Commander's anger was genuine."

"Are you saying that you wanted Commander Chakotay to react as he did?" asks Admiral Zimbaata.

"I thought it would serve my purpose, yes. Lessing was already suspicious that I was bluffing, so I needed Chakotay to be genuinely outraged in order to make it believable." I nod to Admiral Necheyev, acknowledging her earlier statement. "That's why I set the authorization level for the shields at 9. I anticipated that Commander Chakotay would try and raise the shields himself. The one thing I did not expect was for him to disobey my direct order and pull Lessing out of the Cargo Bay."

"But Commander Chakotay still seems to be under the impression that you intended to let Crewman Lessing die," Zimbaata points out. "Why didn't you simply explain what you'd had in mind to the Commander after he freed Lessing from the Cargo Bay?"

"I am not in the habit of justifying every single command decision to my First Officer," I say, infusing my voice with a hint of steel. "I shouldn't have to. However, I do admit that my situation with Commander Chakotay presented some... unique problems. Ones that could have been handled better, by both of us."

"You're referring to the fact that Chakotay was not a Starfleet officer, but the leader of the rebel Maquis crew." There is no change in Necheyev's tone as she says this, but I see the slight jump in her jaw muscle that occurs every time she talks about the Maquis. Or the Borg.

"He had been a captain in his own right," I agree. "For the most part, Chakotay behaved admirably in his capacity as First Officer, but I must admit there were times when it was quite obvious that there were two captains on Voyager's bridge."

"That must have added unnecessary tension to an already difficult command situation," Zimbaata sympathizes.

You've no idea.

"Sometimes it did," I say. "But I've always been convinced that Voyager's ability to weather the hardships of the Delta Quadrant lay in the diversity of its crew. Commander Chakotay and I were simply examples of that diversity in action. Usually our different perspectives complemented each other. But there were other times when we stood on polar opposite sides of an issue, which shouldn't be surprising considering our disparate backgrounds. What's important is that we always managed to work through any problems in the end, and that our differences of opinion weren't readily obvious to the crew."

I don't mention that our differences of opinion had seemed to grow exponentially over the past four years. Chakotay had seemed to challenge me more often, making our arguments personal rather than professional, obviously sublimating his unrequited feelings for me into bursts of contentiousness. He'd developed a bad habit of slipping and calling me 'Kathryn' as he challenged me directly in front of other crewmembers, negligently ignoring how it undermined my authority in their eyes. Even Seven, an innocent to Starfleet protocol, realized after just a few months on Voyager that propriety dictated that no one should challenge the Captain's decisions in public--

"In fact, your 'difference of opinion' with Commander Chakotay over your treatment of Crewman Lessing was so monumental that you felt you had to relieve him of duty, isn't that correct?" Stapp demands.

I nod. "Unfortunately, the next time I saw Commander Chakotay after the Cargo Bay incident, he made a thinly veiled threat of mutiny. It was at the end of an emergency staff meeting, where we'd decided to go with Chakotay's idea of contacting the Ankari first before we continued after the Equinox. Not surprisingly, Mr. Lessing had proven to be extremely cooperative after his close encounter with the aliens, and he had willingly provided critical data on the Ankari. We decided to use that information to try to communicate with the aliens ourselves. It was our hope that we could persuade them to stop their constant attacks on Voyager, at least until we could track down the Equinox.

"However, I thought it necessary to remind Commander Chakotay that our first priority hadn't changed," I explain. "So I pulled him aside after the meeting and reiterated that our main objective was still to locate and stop Ransom and the Equinox. Chakotay answered sarcastically, saying that I had made that abundantly clear. We ended up arguing, and before I could offer any explanations for what had happened earlier, or even rebuke him for not following my order to stand down, the Commander was telling me he thoroughly disapproved of my actions. I told him that I had simply taken a calculated risk, but I would note his objection in my log. Chakotay responded by telling me it wasn't about 'rules and regulations,' it was about 'right and wrong.' And then the Commander warned me in no uncertain terms that he was not going to allow me to 'cross that line again.' I took that as a direct threat to my position as Captain, and promptly relieved Chakotay of duty."

"And yet later, after the Equinox was destroyed and the Commander had been returned to duty, you remarked to him, 'You may have had good reason to stage a little mutiny of your own,'" Necheyev says, quoting from her data padd again. "What did you mean by that, if not an admission that your actions had been irrational, and that you yourself may have deserved to be relieved of duty?"

"I was referring specifically to the actions of Maxwell Burke, First Officer of the Equinox, who had mutinied when Captain Ransom decided to stop running and surrender his ship and crew to Voyager. Burke took over the Equinox when his own Captain did something that he considered irrational. I was simply saying to Chakotay that I was thankful he hadn't decided to take such drastic measures when we disagreed."

"Speaking of your encounter with the Ankari," Admiral Stapp interjects, "what do you have to say about Commander Tuvok's assertion that you agreed to deliver the Equinox to the aliens if they would stop the attacks on Voyager?"

Ah, good old Tuvok. After years of friendship, I've come to understand his dedication to objective honesty. More importantly, I've come to expect it, and have learned to balance his literal version of events with my own personal perspective. "Commander Tuvok is correct, I did tell the aliens that, but--"

"Then perhaps the scope of this inquiry is too small," Stapp declares, his voice rising. "Instead of considering your attempted murder of one person, perhaps we should be looking at how you intended to allow the entire Equinox crew to be destroyed at the hands of these aliens!"

I sit, wait. Not saying a word. Refill my glass of water, the sounds of the pitcher reverberating throughout the now-silent room. Every eye is on me as I take one sip, then another. I set the glass down and lean back in my chair, my hands folded in my lap.

Still not saying anything.

Finally Stapp breaks. "Well, Captain? Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"Oh, you're finished?" I reply, lacing my voice with mild surprise. "I was just giving you time to speak. After all, I wouldn't want to be guilty of interrupting you before you could finish making your point."

Stapp turns about 12 shades of purple, and his face works into a pretty accurate impression of that lionfish Daddy used to keep in the aquarium in his study. Mouth opening, closing. Opening, closing. Working at some scathing comment to throw back at me, but failing to come up with a retort. As I watch him I suddenly realize he reminds me a little of Chakotay, and wonder why I didn't see it sooner.

I notice Admiral Necheyev is smiling slightly at his discomfort, and I begin to think I'm not the only one who considers Stapp a hypocritical idiot. "Commander Tuvok's statement is factually accurate," I finally respond, "but I only said what I had to in order to appease the aliens."

"If you did not intend to follow through with such a promise, why did you make it?" Zimbaata asks.

"The aliens were behaving in an aggressive and hostile manner towards Commander Tuvok and myself, and may have attacked us if we hadn't agreed to their demands. But more importantly, they would have continued their assault on Voyager if we didn't at least pretend to go along with them."

Stapp pounces on this statement with triumphant glee. "So you admit you lied to the aliens!"

I can't help but laugh. "Surely I'm not the first captain to use a little creative dissembling as a stalling tactic. We're Starfleet officers, for God's sake, not the Teen Scouts." The other admirals smile at that, everyone but Stapp. "Let me put the situation into perspective for you. The Ankari themselves had resisted talking with us at all until we trapped their ship in our tractor beam." I immediately raise my hand in a supplicating motion to Admiral Zimbaata, staving off any protest she might make of my actions. "I know, it was an extreme use of force on my part. But it was an extreme situation. Every second that the Equinox eluded us, Voyager was left vulnerable to the alien attacks."

"So you forced the Ankari to do what you wanted," Zimbaata translates.

"Let's just say that they agreed once I had submitted a persuasive argument."

"Can you describe how the Ankari summoned the aliens?" Krauss asks.

"They used a device similar to the one acquired by the Equinox. It apparently sends a signal that acts as a sort of homing beacon into subspace, which then brings the aliens to the point of its origin," I explain. "But when the 'Spirits of Good Fortune' arrived, the very first thing they said to us was, 'We want the humans to die.'" I pause, lacing my fingers together on the table. "Now let's take a moment to consider the magnitude of that statement -- they didn't specify that they wanted the people responsible for the murders to die. They said nothing about the Equinox crew. They said they wanted 'the humans' to die. All of them. That meant my people, my crew. And for all I knew, that could have meant the entire human race."

"Really, Captain, do you expect us to believe such a ridiculous exaggeration?" Stapp guffaws.

He really is making this too easy. "What I expect is for you to give intelligent consideration to the seriousness of a very real threat," I retort. "Since these beings exist in subspace, their ability to travel across great distances is potentially limitless. What if they had decided to expand the scale of their attack? What if they had targeted the Alpha Quadrant? Earth itself? Since we didn't know the magnitude of their threat, it was my responsibility to stop the situation before it escalated into war."

"Which would seem to have been a prudent decision," Krauss comments, "considering the Equinox neglected to gather any useful scientific data about the species' capabilities."

"Perhaps so," Necheyev allows. "But Captain Janeway, it is the consistent report from all of the statements we've gathered that you told your own crew that you had one goal and one goal only. And that was to 'get Ransom,' not 'stop the aliens.' Why shouldn't we take this as an indication that you were bent on pursuing a personal vendetta against someone who had betrayed you? That your relentless desire to stop Ransom bordered on obsession?"

Necheyev accusing me of having a 'personal vendetta' after the way she's been gunning after Seven? It's almost funny.

Almost.

"Captain Ransom did betray me," I admit. "But more importantly, he betrayed the very principles that we live by. He had taken an oath to seek out new life... not destroy it. And he had taken an oath of loyalty to his fellow Starfleet officers. But did he show any loyalty to my people?" My head is already shaking before anyone can answer. "No. Instead he ordered his own crew to steal the field modulator from Voyager, and rendered us defenseless against a species bent on killing us all. Without the auto-initiating security grid, subspace fissures immediately started opening all over the ship, and we were forced to battle the aliens in hand-to-hand combat. While we were occupied with trying to fight for our lives, Captain Ransom and the Equinox crew took the opportunity to make their escape," I say with disdain. "They deliberately chose to ignore a fellow starship that was in distress, and they left my crew to die."

There is a moment of silence, then Krauss quietly asks, "How did you survive the aliens' attack?"

"Desperation created inspiration, and I realized that using a deflector pulse could help to reinforce the shields. It worked, but only temporarily. The aliens were relentless, continuing to whittle away at our defenses a little more with each subsequent attack. We knew we had to find the Equinox before it was too late, before they were able to break through completely. It was already too late for Ensign Myra Kelly, Lieutenant Akame Nilson, and Ensign Yoshu Paren. Too many of my people had already died because of Captain Rudy Ransom, and there was no way in hell that I was going to let any more of them fall victim to his crimes," I proclaim, sweeping the room with my best command glare.

"So yes, I freely admit that I wanted to 'get Ransom,'" I continue. "But the reason should be obvious. We had to intercept him as soon as possible so we could recover the field generator and protect ourselves from the aliens. Even after the aliens had agreed to stop attacking us, we couldn't be sure they wouldn't change their minds. And there was another reason: Ransom had revealed to me that they needed 63 more alien life-forms to fuel their trip back to the Alpha Quadrant. That's 63 more lives that he was willing to sacrifice, 63 more murders he planned to commit," I say, my voice rising in anger. "The man was a Starfleet Captain, by God, yet he was willing to torture and execute innocent beings -- to abandon everything these uniforms stand for -- just to get home a little quicker. I swore to myself that I would stop at nothing to keep him from succeeding with his plan. I would *not* stand by and let him kill again." I raise my chin defiantly. "If you want to call that an obsession, then yes, I was obsessed."

I pause to take another sip of water before I resume. "But I was obsessed with stopping Ransom, not killing him. My conduct after we intercepted the Equinox should prove that. In the end, Captain Ransom finally came to realize the horror of his actions. He felt remorse for what he had done, and was willing to pay for his crimes. When he then offered to surrender his crew to us, I immediately agreed to give every single one of them sanctuary, even Ransom himself. Unfortunately Commander Burke had taken control of the Equinox's bridge by that time, so Ransom was only able to transport a small complement of his crew to safety on Voyager."

"What happened to the Equinox crew once they beamed over to your ship?" Zimbaata questions.

"They were immediately taken into custody."

"And what about later, after the Equinox situation was resolved?" Necheyev asks.

"I stripped each one of rank and allowed them the opportunity to earn back our trust by working for us. Eventually they became incorporated into Voyager's crew. With only limited rights and privileges, of course." I shoot a pointed glance at Necheyev. "They were still criminals, after all."

"And what of the crew that had remained on the Equinox?"

"We tried to save them as well," I answer, "but Commander Burke refused to lower the shields on the bridge. Unfortunately, the bridge crew was then killed, either by the aliens or in the explosion caused by the Equinox's damaged warp core."

"And Captain Ransom?" Admiral Zimbaata prods.

"Ransom went down with his ship. His choice," I add quickly. "Not mine. I wanted to save him."

"What about the Voyager crewmember that had been held prisoner on the Equinox?" Admiral Necheyev asks, her eyes hard, questioning. "I notice you haven't said anything about Seven of Nine."

That's probably because I've deliberately avoided mentioning her, but now I answer without hesitation. "Actually, there were 2 members of my crew being held on the Equinox, although we didn't realize it until later. The Equinox's EMH had switched places with our Doctor and had been acting as a spy, feeding tactical information from Voyager back to his own ship."

Simultaneous questions from Necheyev -- "What was the status of your EMH during this time?"

And Zimbaata -- "How was Seven of Nine treated during her imprisonment on the Equinox?"

Two questions at one time, one answer for both. I stifle my sigh. I had been hoping I wouldn't have to go into this. "As they had done with their own EMH, Ransom deleted our Doctor's ethical sub-routines so he would follow orders without question. As for Seven, before she was captured she had managed to disable the Equinox's warp core and lock out the controls with Borg encryption codes. Voyager was a faster vessel, and she knew we would soon catch up to them as long as the enhanced warp drive remained offline. Unfortunately, Ransom also knew this, and when Seven refused to give him the codes to bring the drive back online, he forced the Doctor to begin removing them directly from her cortical node." I have to drum my fingers on the table as I say this so I don't clench my hand in a fist. "I don't know how much you understand about Seven of Nine's unique physiology, so let me clarify. Ransom wanted the Doctor to perform the equivalent of a full frontal lobotomy on her. Once the procedure was completed, Seven would have been left a vegetable for the rest of her life."

Is it my imagination, or does Zimbaata gasp?

"Fortunately, the procedure took several hours and we were able to get to Seven before the damage was irreversible," I explain. "When Ransom agreed to surrender his crew, she was the first person transported from the Equinox. Our transporter had been set to zero in on her bio-signature and automatically beam her back to Voyager the moment they dropped their shields."

"So tragedy was averted," Admiral Stapp summarizes, somewhat mockingly. He crosses his arms over his chest. "This Seven of Nine, she's the Borg that you freed from the Collective, the one that you personally mentored?"

"Yes."

"She must have been important to you. Close. Like a--" Oh, he wouldn't dare, would he? "--daughter." He would. Bastard. My expression stays neutral, but I'm calculating the precise angle and velocity it will take to crush his skull with my water pitcher. "I'm thinking... perhaps you wouldn't have been quite so magnanimous with Ransom and his crew if they hadn't been holding this Seven of Nine hostage?"

I watch Stapp speak. I even hear the question. But it's not his face I see, not his voice. Instead it's Chakotay, confronting me in my ready room about the true motivation behind my relentless pursuit of the Equinox:

"Is this really about Seven, or is it about Ransom?"

I answer the same way I did then. With anger. Self-righteousness.

Half truths.

"Every single member of my crew is important to me, Admiral. I would do anything in my power to rescue any one of them from harm. But I'm sure that's true of any Starfleet Captain." I fix him with a glare meant to melt him in his seat, and note with satisfaction that Stapp actually seems to flinch. "As for the Equinox crew, any magnanimity I showed them was based purely on Ransom's offer to surrender. If he hadn't made that offer, I would have been duty-bound to continue trying to stop them by any means necessary."

"And what exactly is your definition of 'by any means necessary?'" Necheyev asks.

"You already know the answer to that. As does everyone here in this room." The slightly perplexed looks I receive prompt me to explain. "We all follow the same rules and regulations, don't we? What is the protocol when a Starfleet ship turns rogue here in the Alpha Quadrant?" The question is purely rhetorical, because I launch into the regulation myself: "Ordinance 132, section 4: 'All vessels within the immediate area are to use 100% of their resources to stop a rogue ship.' And if that ship fires on another Starfleet vessel? If there are casualties? Even fatalities? The ordinance states that 'the attacking ship is to be viewed as an enemy craft, and is to be stopped by any justifiable means necessary.'" I lean forward, my voice soft. "Now imagine, if you will, that it is *your* ship that has been attacked, and members of your own crew are dying because of this rogue ship. What would 'by any means necessary' mean to you?"

I glance around the table, letting the question hang in the air, feeling the focus shift from me to each Admiral's own personal experience commanding a starship. Good, let them think about what it would be like to be in my shoes. Let them think about Ransom, and what they themselves would have done with the traitorous Equinox crew. Let them think about anything but what is missing from Noah Lessing's testimony, and from mine. A gap in time -- one so small, Lessing must have deemed it too insignificant to mention.

But it was everything to me.

It was just a moment, maybe two that I had alone with Lessing after his capture, before Chakotay joined us in the Cargo Bay. But it was long enough for me to ask him the one question consuming my mind: what had happened to my Astrometrics Officer, Seven of Nine? Lessing refused to answer me, but as his eyes slid away from mine, I recognized the guilt in them.

The shame.

My God, what had Ransom done to her? My heart froze in terror at the possibilities. His actions up to that point had convinced me he was a man without boundaries, morally bankrupt, ruthless, depraved. I doubted there was a single shred of decency left in him, not one iota of humanity. I knew there was nothing he wouldn't do to get what he wanted. And I knew something else as well -- his secret desire, the seeds of which I may have unwittingly helped to sow. Damn it, why did I have to be such a fool, letting myself be taken in like that? Just because we shared some of the same experiences, I thought I could open up to him, if not about myself, at least about the people closest to me. Stupid, stupid me -- regaling him with stories about my crew, and one crewmember in particular, thinking that if anyone could understand the pride I felt, he would.

He did understand. All too well. After I had pointed out how truly unique Seven of Nine was, I saw him watching her, assessing her. His scar of a mouth smirking as she walked by. The challenge in his eyes when he looked back at me. I'd forgotten how competitive Starfleet captains can be over each other's crewmembers, especially ones like her. At least that's what I tried to tell myself -- that Ransom's interest was all about Seven's abilities as a science officer, nothing more. I may have even believed it for a while. But that was before I knew the crimes he had committed, before I fully realized the depths of his treachery. By then it was too late. He was gone, and my Seven with him.

If that bastard had touched her, harmed her in any way... But at that moment there was nothing I could do -- I was powerless, helpless. Ransom was out of my reach. It was then that I felt the rage that had been simmering, gurgling in me since Seven's abduction begin to boil over. Ransom may have indeed been out of my reach.

But Noah Lessing wasn't.

There he sat, staring defiantly up at me, refusing to say anything that might betray his captain. Refusing to help Seven. This from the man who had claimed he owed his life to her, who had called Seven his 'angel of mercy' for the compassion she showed him when Voyager first came to the aid of his besieged ship. But when he was given the chance to repay the debt he owed her, where was his compassion? Where was his mercy?

As I stood over him, the green light from Seven's empty alcove encircling me, twisting inside me, the idea that had been forming in the back of mind began to take shape. I would do whatever was necessary to make Lessing cooperate, for Seven's sake. And if it meant I had to threaten the man, terrify him to within an inch of his life until he agreed to help me save her? It seemed fitting. Deserved.

Poetic.

"May I stand?" I say aloud. I'm already rising to my feet, so Necheyev's nod of permission is slightly moot. I begin to walk around the table, forcing the Admirals to look up to me. I focus completely on each one as I pass, just as I do my senior staff when I'm trying to convince them to do something particularly impossible. Like destroy the Caretaker's Array. Or go toe to toe with the Borg Queen herself so I can recover an errant crewmember. Or agree to tear apart the very fabric of the time/space continuum so Voyager can get home. "Each and every one of us here has been a Starfleet Captain," I say. "We know the unique responsibility, the duty that the title bestows upon us. Not only do we have to protect our ship and the lives of our crew, but we have to protect the values of Starfleet, as well as the Federation itself. To do this, we all must be equal parts explorer, soldier, ambassador and diplomat."

I stop between Admirals Zimbaata and Krauss, place my hands on the backs of each of their chairs so I'm standing across from Admirals Stapp and Necheyev. "After the incident in the Cargo Bay, Commander Chakotay spoke to me of right and wrong. He felt compelled, as my First Officer, to point out to me that he thought I had crossed the line between the two. But as I've already said, he was not an experienced First Officer." I incline my head slightly towards Admiral Necheyev, fully prepared to play on her disdain for the Maquis. I'm sure she would appreciate the irony of me using her prejudice to my own advantage in this little game. "Chakotay had been a captain in his own right -- but not of a Starship," I say. "He had resigned his commission with Starfleet to command a rebel ship that played by its own rules. One that could, by its very nature, exist in a world of black and white. Where there is only right or wrong.

"But we... we know what it's like to helm a Starship in untenable situations." I meet Admiral Stapp's gaze directly. "We know that there is very rarely a black and white solution to any problem. As Starfleet captains, we exist in shades of gray, walking a fine line between rules and regulations and what we all know to be right and wrong. And the further away from Starfleet we get, the more it falls on us as captains to interpret those rules and regulations." Stapp lowers his eyes, aware that I could just as easily be referring to his own decision to allow hundreds of innocent people to die in the name of war. "Hopefully, our training has prepared us," I say. "Hopefully we have the strength of character to make the right choices.

"And hopefully..." I pause and walk back around to my place at the table, meeting first Admiral Krauss's eyes, then Admiral Zimbaata's. "Hopefully, we will be able to make those choices while following one of the most important ideals of Starfleet -- that it is our responsibility, no, our *duty* to try and protect the lives of innocent, sentient beings when they come under attack by hostile external forces. It is this single credo that I have consistently lived by -- whether those forces be Borg, Hirogen, Species 8472, Kazon, or the Caretaker's Array itself -- the mighty must protect the weak."

I take my seat, and lean back in my chair. "Yes, we live by rules," I say quietly, firmly. "But we die by our principles. I admit that some of my actions have been unorthodox. You may find me guilty of bending some regulations. I'm sure I've even broken a few. But I swear, in this instance and all throughout my time in the Delta Quadrant, that I have never consciously betrayed Starfleet's principles." As I slowly meet each Admirals' gaze one by one, I channel the strength of my conviction into my voice until I can feel it vibrating deep within my chest: "I challenge anyone in this room to find evidence to the contrary. If you do, I'll resign my commission with Starfleet, effective immediately."

Part 06