Bravo Fleet
‘The squadron did not reinforce Gul Malek’s strike force because my orders were that we would not reinforce Gul Malek’s strike force.’ Lionel Jericho’s curt voice rolled across the auditorium. ‘For the purposes of this inquiry, does it have to be anything more than that?’
Vice Admiral Marshall-Bennet looked unimpressed as he leaned forward, elbows on the bench where he sat above all others to preside over the proceedings. ‘This inquiry was convened to understand the complete breakdown in the chain of command of Endeavour Squadron. So, yes, Captain. What orders you gave and why you gave them are very relevant.’
At the main lectern, Jericho shifted his feet. He took a moment, looking down at his notes with sombre eyes. The faintest tension ebbed from his shoulders as he let out a slow breath. ‘The Nighthawk had received intelligence about local Dominion operations I felt could support the assault on Izar. If we intercepted the ambush on Gul Malek’s ships, the Dominion would know we had that intelligence.’
‘Knowing what you know now,’ said Admiral Bennet, ‘do you think that was the right call?’
Matt Rourke couldn’t help but squirm in his seat and lean towards Harrian Cal. ‘What does that have to do with anything?’ he hissed.
Harrian just shot him a warning look and stayed silent, but Jericho’s expression suggested a similar opinion. He squared his shoulders again. ‘There are multiple reasons everything happened as it did, Admiral. From limited intelligence about conditions at Izar, to poor force and personnel distribution choices I made, and of course the Changeling impersonating Ramius Vornar. My regrets begin at our ambush of Breen forces in the Ciater Nebula. Not before then.’
‘Maybe,’ Harrian breathed at last, ‘we should have guessed he wasn’t going to make it that easy for us.’
Bennet looked at the other command officers on the presiding bench, then reached for a new PADD. ‘We have no evidence that the Changeling Vornar passed any information to the Lost Fleet.’
‘We have evidence that the Changeling Vornar held the Independence back and compromised our battle plans at Izar.’
‘Would that have happened if you had waited for the arrival of the USS Pathfinder?’
Rourke again leaned in to Harrian. ‘Not that I don’t enjoy this,’ he murmured, ‘but Bennet’s really on the warpath.’ He could see the tension in Jericho’s shoulders. For everything he’d said in New Seattle once the dust of battle had settled, the captain was a proud man. It was one thing for him to admit fault when blood on their hands had still not dried, and he stood as commander of a squadron, still. Confrontational challenges from a flag officer weeks later were not, Rourke estimated, going to be as welcome.
Harrian tilted his head thoughtfully. ‘It bodes well for us, though? Right?’
Rourke’s suspicion this was wishful thinking turned out to be correct. It was another few days before he gave his testimony before the inquiry into the many misdeeds of the ranking officers of Endeavour Squadron, assembled here in the hustle and bustle of Brahms Station. High in the skies above Avalon II, it lay at the heart of the fleet yards where half of the Fourth Fleet had been dragged for repairs and refit after the desolation of the Deneb Sector. But they were also counting down the days to Frontier Day, with Avalon set to hold its own festivities, and so anywhere Rourke went, someone or something was underfoot.
It would have been annoying if his entire life wasn’t on the line. That made him tense enough before he even went back into the small auditorium the morning of his testimony, but Harrian caught him in the corridor, expression tense. ‘Matt.’
Rourke glared. ‘That’s not a good face.’
‘It’s not a bad face.’ Harrian hesitated. ‘Gabe got in touch. He’s made it to Starbase 23, taking up a position there alongside half the rest of the squadron.’
‘Is everyone alright?’ Ice slid into Rourke’s chest. His ship, his crew, were on the other side of the Federation. If something had happened, there was nothing he could do.
‘Yes,’ said Harrian, but he sounded apprehensive rather than reassuring. ‘There’s been some personnel changes, that’s all.’ The broad Bajoran man hesitated, then shook his head and cut to the chase. ‘Valance has been given command of Endeavour. Permanently.’
Rourke stared at him. If he was still long enough, a part of him thought, surely a response would come. Surely words would coalesce that could encapsulate the rage, relief, betrayal, loss, and pride surging through him at that moment. If language were capable of conveying such a maelstrom, if letters and sounds could capture the storm.
Then the staff officer at the door to the auditorium extended a hand rather pointedly inside, and Rourke stalked past Harrian into the chamber.
‘I have, throughout the entirety of this year, made my command decisions based on two factors,’ he found himself saying some twenty minutes later. Words were insufficient for Harrian’s news. They were not insufficient for the scrutiny of Admiral Bennet. ‘My own conscience and my distrust of Fleet Captain Jericho’s judgement and principles.’
Bennet regarded him coolly for a moment. Then he said, ‘Is that why you disobeyed orders, Captain Rourke, and separated Endeavour from the squadron, abandoning them ahead of their ambush of Breen forces in the Ciater Nebula?’
‘That was the conscience part.’ Rourke’s jaw set. ‘The distrust included Commander Ramius Vornar telling me Jericho was acting weirdly and making bad decisions. Considering I thought Vornar was a man who’d known Jericho for over a decade and I thought Vornar was loyal to Jericho, I considered that a good reason to listen to my gut.’
‘Your gut. You disobeyed orders over your gut.’
‘Not listening to my gut for two months has resulted in Endeavour Squadron withdrawing aid from worlds in the Neutral Zone and abandoning diplomatic engagements with local factions, all so we could better militarise a border that, frankly, Starfleet spent the last fifteen years investing in the defence of.’ Rourke reached for his water. ‘And I thought this organisation was supposed to have changed since Coppelius.’
‘Was your problem with Captain Jericho, then, Captain Rourke? Or with Starfleet?’
‘My problem is with thinking Federation lives are worth more than anyone else’s.’
‘You’ve sworn oaths to protect the Federation and its citizens.’
‘My oaths also include risking or even sacrificing my life and the lives of my crew for the good of all. All, Admiral, not just folks who live in the Core Worlds.’ Rourke could feel his grip on himself shift. He’d been precise and clear at the start of proceedings days ago; this was not his first inquiry on either side of the bench. He knew how to form his arguments, how to spin his answers to his own benefit, and when to say more and when to not. But indignation was roiling in him now, and he could feel the slouch to his shoulders, hear the hint of insolence in his voice. He was a little too close to a combat footing for this environment.
And he didn’t care enough to stop it.
‘We’ve all taken these oaths,’ was Bennet’s chilly response. ‘You seem to think your interpretation of them has more clarity, Captain?’
‘I’m making it clear that just as Captain Jericho has no regrets for anything that happened before Ciater, I don’t have any regrets.’ Rourke opened his hands. ‘Except maybe for not standing up to him sooner.’
‘You wish you’d disobeyed orders sooner?’
Rourke raised his hands. ‘Come on, Admiral. A man’s allowed his opinions. I followed orders right up until Captain Jericho instructed me to leave our allies to die. I argued with him. I lost the argument. I went to save lives.’
‘Not considering the lives of the squadron -’
‘My estimation was that the squadron could complete the ambush without Endeavour. And I maintain that was accurate; it’s just that the Changeling who had been sabotaging our whole operation sabotaged Independence’s combat capabilities in the Breen ambush.’ Rourke scowled. ‘I’m not going to pretend I didn’t make contentious decisions, and I’m not letting Jericho off the hook, but is everyone really ignoring the fact that Izar went the way it did in no small part because our Changeling infiltrator screwed up the plan?’
‘We’ll get to that, Captain. I’m trying to assess your motivations for breaching regulations. Which has nothing to do with the battle itself and everything to do with your belief that your judgement trumped a superior officer’s.’
Rourke drummed his fingers on the lectern. ‘Then it’s really not complicated. Saving Gul Malek was the right thing to do. The Cardassians came to help us when nobody else did – outside of and until Atlantis’s negotiations and the Battles of Leonis and Farpoint, Deneb was Starfleet, the Union, and nobody else in the galaxy. We owed them backup. More than that, I didn’t agree with Captain Jericho’s opinion about compromising our intelligence, and I felt he was putting Federation lives ahead of anyone else’s, using Izar as an excuse to let Cardassians die for us. Oh, and there was a Changeling. Let’s not forget that.’
His words echoed around the auditorium. JAG and staff officers and observers alike sat and listened with mixed expressions, but Rourke didn’t bother to read the room; didn’t bother to study to see if he had support or opposition around him. Their opinions didn’t matter. Bennet’s mattered.
Admiral Bennet leaned forward, frowning at the outburst. ‘I’m not here to decide on the rights and wrongs of a Changeling infiltrator, Captain. I’m here to determine culpability for the Battle of Izar. Commander Daniran Kosst is dead. A significant portion of her crew are dead. Losses on the USS Triumph were heavy, and in the support wing. The Battle of Izar was very nearly a complete disaster.’
‘You know why it wasn’t? Because I took command of the Independence and called Gul Malek for reinforcements. He wasn’t just grateful enough to help. He was capable of helping because, you see, his strike force hadn’t been wiped out in a Dominion ambush.’ Rourke jabbed a finger at the admiral. A small part of his brain wondered if he’d completely abandoned his senses. ‘I don’t have any new light to shed on things, Admiral. The records speak for themselves. It really is as obvious as it looks, for my end: I tried to do the right thing. I got removed from command. Then I kept on trying to do the right thing and saved the goddamn battle. I’d say “you’re welcome,” but I think it’s pretty clear this inquiry has decided ahead of time what the outcome is, at least for me.’
Bennet’s scowl only deepened. ‘I don’t know what makes you say that, Captain.’
‘You took my ship.’ A fist had tightened in Rourke’s throat as his heart thudded in his chest and blood sang in his ears. ‘This isn’t over, no decision has been made, but Command has assigned a new captain of the USS Endeavour. Am I glad my successor is Karana Valance? Truly. But Command has clearly decided that, whatever comes of this inquiry, I’m not going back to my job. To my ship. So no, I won’t stand here politely and say, “Oh, it was a difficult decision, I have great respect for Starfleet regulations and respectfully disagreed with Captain Jericho.”’ It was time to stab the finger at Jericho himself, sat at the front row in the main stand beside Harrian. He looked bemused at the proceedings. ‘A Changeling screwed with us. Jericho kept screwing it up. I pulled our arses out of the fire. I say again: you’re welcome.’
Bennet was silent for a long moment. At length, he drew a deep breath. ‘I understand you’re upset, Captain. Personnel decisions are beyond this inquiry -’
‘You’re the Director of Fourth Fleet Operations!’ Rourke burst incredulously. ‘Deciding who commands Endeavour is literally your job.’
‘…and this inquiry can determine if you will ever again command any ship, Captain,’ Bennet concluded with a snap. ‘So I really do think you should consider your tone.’
‘May we recess?’
Heads snapped around at the new voice, and both Bennet and Rourke stared to see Lionel Jericho on his feet, hands behind his back. At their expressions, he shrugged. ‘Captain Rourke’s just lost his ship. It wasn’t so long ago you were a captain yourself, sir. It’s not a job, it’s who you are. I don’t think it’s fair he wasn’t properly informed, either. This inquiry should be a place for truth and consideration, not accusation and blame. He’s given his testimony on everything before the battle. Recess, and when we next meet, I’ll give mine on just why the Battle of Izar is my fault.’
Bennet regarded Jericho for thudding heartbeats until he said, ‘If we recess now, we won’t reconvene until the fourteenth.’
‘Then let’s enjoy Frontier Day, Admiral,’ said Jericho, at last bringing that easy charm that marked him out when he wasn’t being a hard case. ‘And come back in the spirit of renewed patriotism and pride.’
Aside from interrupting Rourke hoisting himself on his own petard, Jericho’s words were well-timed. They had been at this for some days already, and inquiries like this were always a tiring process. Bennet looked reluctant when he agreed but clearly knew it was the best way for the inquiry to finish in good order. They would not get through particularly much before they were forced to break for Frontier Day anyway.
‘We reconvene on the fourteenth,’ the admiral proclaimed reluctantly. ‘I hope you all find Frontier Day fulfilling.’
Rourke looked to Jericho on the way out, but he was one of the first out the door. Harrian caught him as they reached the corridor, and the two men stood in the gentle rush of officers, all of them a little demob happy with a day of celebration ahead.
‘That was unexpected,’ Rourke said.
‘Maybe,’ said Harrian. ‘Maybe not. His kids have shipped in today, just in time for the ceremony tomorrow.’
‘You’re saying he didn’t try to save my bacon, he just wanted a little family time?’ Rourke tilted his head. ‘That’s unusually cynical of you, Cal.’
‘I don’t think I’m the one whose attitude should be criticised today. What were you thinking in there?’ The two men fell into step as they headed out of the beating heart of Fourth Fleet administration in Avalon towards the main promenade.
Rourke sighed. ‘Maybe I wasn’t. It’s not that I think I was perfect, Cal, but Bennet’s sounding like he doesn’t want the truth, he just wants to tear us all down.’
‘I was expecting him to be a bit more circumspect,’ Harrian admitted. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you about Endeavour right before you went in.’
‘Nah. Best I know the score. It’s not your fault Command is making this a stitch-up.’ But anything more Rourke might have said was cut short at a figure turning the corridor ahead, one of the few heading towards them, not joining the traffic escaping the den of bureaucracy, and he stopped short. ‘…give us a sec?’
Harrian followed his gaze to the approaching figure of Sophia Hale and did Rourke the favour of not rolling his eyes. ‘I’ll go get an early lunch.’
He and Hale gave polite exchanges as they passed, but then the diplomat was approaching Rourke, expression curious. ‘I hear you broke for the festivities early.’
‘Jericho cut my testimony short.’ Rourke didn’t bother to not sound confused. ‘It was for the best. We’ve still got to go over the Battle of Izar itself in excruciating detail.’
‘I also,’ she said more softly, ‘heard from SB-23. I’m sorry.’
He let out a slow breath. ‘If anyone’s going to get Endeavour, I’m glad it’s Valance. I just didn’t think I was done. Or, I liked to hope. Killing hope’s no fun.’
‘It’s not.’ She hesitated. ‘At least we have Frontier Day.’
‘Pompous ceremonies and speeches and parades as a little interlude before Marshall-Bennet decides if I ever wear the uniform again? Fun.’
‘I know,’ she sighed. ‘I have a pack of dignitaries I need to greet and keep happy at a reception dinner this evening.’ Then she straightened and looked him in the eye. ‘So I wondered if we might get dinner tomorrow. After the ceremony.’
The maelstrom of bitterness in Rourke’s heart wavered. They had not spoken much since Izar; she’d only arrived at Avalon a day or so ago. With his life, purpose, and future hanging in the balance, he’d not let himself think about her. That had felt too much like something real, when it still felt in many ways like he was trapped in a nightmare, had been since Jericho split up his crew. He smiled. ‘I’d suggest drinks after this reception tonight. But I have to see Beckett.’
Hale nodded. ‘Is there anything he can do about the inquiry?’
‘I don’t know what leverage he has on Bennet. The two of them have worked together for a while. But that does mean that Marshall-Bennet’s met Beckett. Maybe I’m better off if he doesn’t get involved,’ Rourke said dryly.
‘Tomorrow it is, then.’ Hale smiled. ‘Do you know what Beckett wants?’
‘No,’ Rourke sighed. ‘But it’s probably not important.’
The night before the biggest celebration of the century, Brahms Station was a den of parties and festivities. Rourke was still a little surprised when his summons by Beckett brought him not to the Fourth Fleet offices on the station but aboard the USS Caliburn, the flagship where the admiral kept small offices of his own. He was greeted by Captain Hargreaves’s security officer, who remained rather dour-faced despite how minor the whole thing seemed and escorted from the transporter room to where Alexander Beckett received him in his study.
‘Thank you, Lieutenant,’ were Beckett’s only words on their arrival. ‘That’ll be all.’
Rourke glanced back at the doors as they shut, then over to Beckett. The office was small, but after weeks billeting aboard for the Deneb campaign, the admiral had worn it in well enough. Now he stood before windows overlooking the vast stretch of the Avalon System, a hive of activity as the might of the Fourth Fleet gathered ahead of the Frontier Day celebrations and to lick their wounds.
‘What’s this about, Alex?’ Rourke said at last. ‘I’m assuming not the inquiry, or you’d be there. Or Bennet taking my ship. I’m assuming you want something, which is odd because I don’t know how I can possibly help you right now -’
‘Because you’re a disgraced officer until Bennet decides otherwise. Which he will.’ Beckett waved a dismissive hand as he turned back to face Rourke. ‘But in the meantime, the fact that you’re persona non grata makes you beneath most people’s attention, which means you’re the exact right person to help me over the next forty-eight hours.’
‘Help you with -’
‘A threat of unprecedented proportions facing the Fourth Fleet. Evil in our heart. An enemy that needs uprooting.’
Rourke stared levelly at him. ‘Are you going to be specific this time? Or do I just get paranoia?’
‘My paranoia was right,’ Beckett pointed out. ‘Ramius Vornar was a damned Changeling. But you assume that crisis is over.’
‘The Lost Fleet surrendered.’ Rourke shrugged. ‘They’re returning to the Gamma Quadrant.’
‘I’m not talking about Changelings from the Lost Fleet. I’m talking about the ones who convinced them to continue their war against the Federation. The ones who stopped Starfleet Command from responding. The ones who have infiltrated our highest echelons of authority and stand at the precipice of destroying us.’ Beckett landed his hands on the desk, eyes locked on him. ‘So it’s not a time to be glib, Matt.’
Fatigue tore at Rourke’s soul, but he couldn’t tell if this was exhaustion from the challenges of the last month or exhaustion from dealing with Beckett’s unwavering sureness the past twenty-five years. He tilted his head. ‘So what’re we going to do?’
‘Deal with the Changeling who’s infiltrated Fourth Fleet Command.’ Beckett straightened, voice dropping. ‘We’re going to unmask the Changeling who’s replaced Admiral Dahlgren.’