“Do you recall what happened at 1808 hours?”

“Yes. That was the moment the light left Lieutenant Kora’s eyes,” Captain Lewis replied darkly. He’d been there. He’d locked eyes with her as she died. But there was nothing he could do. The polaron blast had irradiated her organs within seconds. “It took only a moment. That’s all it takes for any of us.”

The chamber was silent. Dead silent. It wasn’t just a courtroom drama anymore, something to gossip about after work at the Northern Lights Lounge. Suddenly, it had become real. All too real. Some of those in the room had known Kora Tal, the lifelong healer who joined the Polaris Hazard Team, not for the glory or the adrenaline rush, but out of a desire to heal her colleagues should they fall. But on Nasera, it was her that fell. She died when her compassion caused her to drop her guard for just a moment. One short moment. That was all it took.

“Yes, yes, most unfortunate,” Commander Drake noted disinterestedly. “But that’s not what I was referring to. What else happened at approximately that time?”

“I don’t know,” Captain Lewis answered, his tone ice cold, his eyes narrowing on the JAG. The way he’d flippantly dismissed her sacrifice, someone who gave her life for him, the Captain had half a mind to climb off the stand and rip that smug grin right off his face. “I get the sense that you’re going to tell us though.” He wasn’t going to guess. He had no interest in judicial games.

Commander Drake appeared pleased with the reaction. He turned towards the clerk. “If you would please,” he asked. “The audio recording entered into the record as Exhibit 7.”

A moment later, the chaos of battle, from the perspective of this ship’s bridge, flooded over the room’s audio. It didn’t take long to figure out the recording wasn’t just any battle, and it wasn’t just any ship. It was the USS Polaris, and it was recorded during the Battle of Nasera.

“Hull breach, deck 7.”

Four crewmen died in that moment, but the worst was yet to come.

“Make that decks 7, 9, 11, 12, and 25.” 

Even over the recording, the sounds of sparks flying and gas venting could be heard. Below deck, a dozen officers lost their life instantly, ejected into the vacuum of space before containment fields could activate. A further eight would succumb to their injuries in the following minutes, long before medical aid could reach them.

“Shields at 29%. Launchers 3, 4 and 7 inoperable.”

More explosions, and then the sound of a pylon colliding with the deck. Somewhere on the bridge, an officer howled in pain as he tried to pull himself out from under the debris. Consumed in the thick of the battle, no one came to his aid. He died a couple minutes later.

“Keep us on course for that station!”

The voice that gave the order was unmistakable. It was Fleet Admiral Allison Reyes. Now sitting next to Dr. Hall and Ensign Aronian, the admiral’s expression was unreadable. She didn’t react whatsoever. Instead, her mind was turning, trying to dissect the JAG’s motives. Why did he choose this recording? If anything, this moment, as they barrelled headlong towards the massive orbital weapons platform being turned upon the planet , emphasized the stakes of the conflict. That, in turn, could serve as justification for what Captain Lewis and Dr. Hall allegedly did. What was Commander Drake’s angle?

“We just lost all power to weapons!”

Admiral Reyes remembered the moment the tactical officer had screamed that at her. Suddenly, all optionality had been stripped from her. She had only one choice. She remembered making eye contact with Captain Devreux. He nodded solemnly, giving his silent blessing. She did not falter when she then gave the order.

“Conn, give me ramming speed.”

“Ramming speed, aye.”

Admiral Reyes had resolved to stop the Lost Fleet from razing Nasera at any cost, and that price would be their lives. In the gallery, each and every member of the crew who’d been aboard the Polaris that day flashed back to where they’d been at that moment, as they looked out windows or stared at their monitors, watching their death approach. For one young officer in the audience, the memory was too much. He stood up and rushed out of the chambers.

“Ryssehl to Polaris.”

Up until the moment he heard the Andorian’s voice, Captain Lewis hadn’t actually been able to place the moment they were reliving. He’d been down on the surface below, and he wasn’t privy to the bridge audio. But now he knew the exact moment of this recording. He remembered those words over his earpiece as they rushed through an interior courtyard of the governor’s mansion. It was that courtyard where Lieutenant Kora died shortly thereafter.

“Abort! Pull off! We have a solution. We’re going to blow this bitch.”

Admiral Reyes recalled that moment, as she paused to consider his words. The Polaris was thoroughly trashed. It would never survive a second attempt. To pull the ship off course was to trust that Captain Lewis’ accomplice would succeed. The lives of an entire planet would be in the hands of that Andorian, a disgraced, former Starfleet officer. But she trusted Commander Lewis, and thus she gave the order to pull away.

“Conn, bearing three three zero mark six zero, all engines full.”

If the call had come but a moment later, it would have been too late, and the ship’s momentum would have carried it straight into the platform. But as it came when it did, that call saved the lives of over fifteen hundred officers and crew aboard the USS Polaris.

“Ryssehl, you’re still on board the station?”

“I am.”

“You better be right about this. You only have thirty seconds before the station has a firing solution on Nasera City. Is that enough time for you to plant your explosives and get off?”

“No, we won’t be getting off the station. We were dead either way. This way, you all don’t go with us. You still have a planet to save.”

There was a pause. And then came the trembling voice of Crewman Nam Jae-Sun, the young operations specialist who, before Nasera, had never even taken a life. But on Nasera, things had changed. Working alongside the Andorian, they’d found a way aboard the station, and now, he would die alongside him too.

“Admiral, please tell my parents I love them, and that I did my duty.”

The sound of explosions tearing the station apart rippled through the room, and then the recording stopped. The room was silent, the audience processed the weight of what they’d just heard. Even the usually-steady Captain Adler, a man who’d seen so much, looked visibly shaken.

Commander Drake, though, didn’t give anyone a chance to breathe. He just right back after the witness. “You were down on the surface of Nasera when this took place, were you not, Captain Lewis?”

“Yes, I was,” Captain Lewis answered with a solemn nod. He remembered the moment the skies became fire, when the explosion of a thousand warheads contained on that station bathed the planet in a deep orange glow.

“And were you aware of what was going on above you in orbit?”

“Somewhat,” Captain Lewis nodded. “I had a firm grasp of the battlespace, as we had observed it for over a week, and I could extrapolate the resistance the Polaris would face when she arrived.”

“Sorry, let me be more clear,” Commander Drake clarified. “Were you aware of the conversation that took place?”

“On the bridge of the Polaris? No. Not at the time, at least. But yes, I heard the exchange over our inter-ship comms channel between Reyes and Ryssehl Th’zathol.”

“Ah yes, Mister Ryssehl Th’zathol,” Commander Drake then said, a devious smile crossing his face. “Let’s talk about your Andorian mercenary friend for a moment.”

Captain Lewis stared blankly at the prosecutor. Where was he going with this?

“Ryssehl Th’zathol,” Commander Drake read off the personnel file his PADD. “Graduated Starfleet Enlisted Training Command, 2362. Served in EOD for five years. Court martialled, 2367, for repeated instances of reckless behavior resulting in the deaths of others.” He noticed the Captain’s jawline tense up. “Followed by a long sequence of criminal activities… the Maquis in the early seventies… the Fenris Rangers in the late eight…”

“Objection, your honor,” Admiral Reyes interjected. Not only was she worried what Captain Lewis might do to the JAG kept at his attack on the dead, but she also felt a sense of loyalty to Ryssehl for the sacrifice he’d made. “Relevance.”

“Goes to motive,” Commander Drake insisted.

“I’ll allow it,” Captain Adler asserted from the bench. “But get to the point, Commander.”

“As I was saying,” Commander Drake said as he turned his attention back to Captain Lewis. “A terrorist and a mercenary from his point of discharge until his death over Nasera. Even did two prison stints, one at the New Zealand Penal Colony and the other in the Jaros II Stockade. A real good guy, wouldn’t you say, Captain?”

“One of the best,” Captain Lewis nodded without hesitation.

“Figures you would say that,” Commander Drake chuckled snarkily. “Given your shared proclivity to flagrantly violate the…”

“Objection!” Admiral Reyes interjected.

“Sustained,” Captain Adler said, his eyes falling back upon the JAG. “Make your point, Commander, or we’re moving on!” His patience was beginning to wear thin. The Commander was no closer to an admissible point than the last time the Admiral had objected.

Commander Drake was not the least bit bothered. He’d known the objection would come, and taht it would be sustained. He’d just taken the easy shot because it was there and because, as much as the hearing officer might try to put it aside, he knew such comments would still linger in Adler’s mind as he deliberated the verdict. “Would it be fair, though, to say that you and Ryssehl Th’zathol were close?”

“I try not to get close to anyone,” Captain Lewis replied coldly. “It makes it easier that way.”

“But you trusted him enough that, when you returned to Starfleet in 2399, you named him CEO of Sebold Logistics, your private little mercenary firm,” Commander Drake pointed out. He’d done his research. “Isn’t that right?”

“I disagree with your characterization of a highly-respected enterprise that counts both Starfleet and the Federation Merchant Marine among its clientele,” Captain Lewis replied, to which Commander Drake almost laughed out loud. “But yes, upon re-upping with Starfleet, I handed the reins to Ryssehl.” He’d known it wouldn’t be a good look if he appeared to be profiteering from a private military contracting firm while serving as an officer in Starfleet.

“So from where I’m sitting, it sounds like you have at least a good relationship with him.”

“Had,” Captain Lewis corrected. Ryssehl was dead. They’d just heard him die on the recording the commander had played. “But yes, you could say that.”

“So how did it make you feel then, when you heard him and Crewman Nam die?” Commander Drake asked as his eyes narrowed on the captain.

“It didn’t.”

“It didn’t?” Commander Drake parroted back with an incredulous tone. “It didn’t make you feel anything at all?” He had to have felt something. And even if he insisted he did not, it would still seed doubt in the minds of those reviewing the case. “Did it make you upset? Angry? Like you wanted to get back at those you held responsible?”

“No, none of that,” Captain Lewis shook his head. “If anything, it made me proud. Ryssehl and Nam gave their lives so fifteen hundred of their colleagues could live to fight another day.”

“Do you really expect us to believe that?” Commander Drake asked as he turned to address the hearing officer and the audience. “That your dear friends and colleagues died on that station, and somehow all you felt was pride?” He spun back around at the Captain. “That you didn’t consider, even for a moment, possibly taking your revenge on the Vorta in your custody?” His opening attack against the captain was now on full display, and there was not an ounce of empathy on his face.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Captain Lewis replied in a dark, but genuine tone. “But Ryssehl and Nam died in a way few will ever have the chance… with meaning and purpose. May we be so lucky to say the same when death comes for us.”