“At 1815 hours, you provided the following sitrep: ‘We’re good here. It’s pretty peaceful, all things considered. We just need to have a chat with an old friend.’ This directly contradicts your after-action report, in which you described the mansion as still under enemy control,” Commander Drake pressed.

“Well, considering it was the first time we hadn’t been in an active shootout in fifteen minutes, it seemed an apt enough description,” Captain Lewis shrugged. “I’ve been known to understate the severity of a combat situation – you know, because you sort of just get used to it after a point – but to be clear, the mansion was still crawling with Jem’Hadar. We had just secured one corner of it.”

“And who were you referring to as ‘an old friend’?”

“The Vorta commander.”

The JAG looked over at the clerk. “Exhibit 11, please.” He turned back to Captain Lewis as the face of a deceased Vorta appeared on the terminal mounted to their left. “This Vorta?”

“Those impish creatures all look about the same to me,” Captain Lewis chuckled. “But that could be him, sure.” In reality, he knew damn well it was the same Vorta. He’d never forget the face of the sadistic mastermind who led the campaign of terror against the colonists of Nasera, and who was responsible for the deaths of half of his team. That said, diminishing the perception of his interest in that monster seemed an appropriate response given the accusations against him.

“And what did you mean by ‘a chat’?”

“A chat, as in a conversation.”

“As in shoving a needle into his arm?!” Commander Drake snapped back. He’d spent the last hour explaining all the reasons why Captain Lewis should have harbored a desire for revenge against the Vorta, and now it was time to drive the point home.

“No,” Captain Lewis frowned. That most certainly was not what he had just said. “A conversation, as in a verbal exchange of words between two or more parties.”

“Are you sure?” Commander Drake asked as his eyes narrowed on his opponent.

“Your honor…” came Admiral Reyes’ voice from the defense table.

“I agree,” Captain Adler nodded as he cast a disapproving gaze down at the prosecutor. “Commander Drake, the captain answered your question… and very clearly at that.” What was Drake playing at? Such insinuations might persuade an untrained ear during a jury trial, but Eleazar Adler was more than experienced enough to discern and disregard a blatant, unsubstantiated comment. “Move on.”

The prosecutor didn’t flinch. He just jumped straight to his next attack. “A moment or two later, the admiral replied to you with the following: ‘Your team did us a good one today’. Do you remember your response?”

“No, but I’m sure you’ll remind me.”

“You replied: ‘At a steep price’,” the prosecutor read from the transcript. “By a steep price, did you mean the price of compromising your morals and values?”

“Objection,” Admiral Reyes asserted. “Leading the witness.”

“Respectfully, I’ll allow it,” Captain Adler shook his head. There was some gray area when it came to deposing a hostile witness. “Answer the question, Captain.”

“No,” Captain Lewis answered without elaborating.

“No?” asked Commander Drake, the succinct answer unclear as to whether it was in response to Captain Adler’s direction or his own. “No, as in you won’t answer the question? Or no, as in…”

“No, as in, at no point during my time on Nasera did I ever compromise my morals or values,” Captain Lewis replied with complete sincerity. And he meant it. Even when he’d raised his sidearm to the Vorta’s head and pulled the trigger, he hadn’t compromised his morals or values.

“Then what, Captain, were you referring to when you mentioned a steep price?”

“I was referring to the price we paid in blood to reach that point,” Captain Lewis replied, his voice growing frustrated and pained. Of all the things asked of him, that one seemed particularly obvious. At least to him. “Petty Officer Jason Atwood. Ryssehl Th’zathol. Crewman Nam Jae-Sun. Lieutenant Kora Tal.” He spoke the names slowly, one by one, as he ran down the list of his team members who had already died to reach that moment.

“Oh yes, now you expect us to believe you have a bleeding heart!” Commander Drake countered, his tone equal parts sarcastic and scathing. “But alright, while you’re listing names, let’s talk about another one. Chief Petty Officer Ayala Shafir. Three minutes after your conversation with Admiral Reyes, Chief Shafir called and asked to speak with you on a private line. What did she say to you?”

“She told me that Lieutenant Commander Jordan was dead.”

“Did she tell you how he died?”

“Yes.”

“And why don’t you tell us?” Commander Drake prompted, his eyes giving away an out of place excitement given the subject at hand, that of a great young officer with a promising future who went down to the surface of Nasera II, never to return.

“Lieutenant Commander Jordan and Chief Shafir were part of a team that broke into the control center for the planetary defense system,” Captain Lewis explained. “Their mission was to blow it up so the Dominion couldn’t use the network against our ships. They successfully planted the explosives, but as they were retreating, Lieutenant Commander Jordan was captured by the Jem’Hadar.” He had no interest in explaining further.

“But Lieutenant Commander Jordan was not killed by the Jem’Hadar, was he?” Commander Drake asked pointedly. He had no interest in letting the Captain off that easily. There was no ground too sacred for him to trample across.

“No, he was a casualty of circumstance,” Captain Lewis replied darkly. “He died when Chief Shafir did exactly what she was supposed to do.”

“Which was?” Commander Drake pressed.

“Which was to blow up the command center.”

No one spoke. Not even a whisper. It was dead quiet as those in the room processed what he’d just said. Had they heard him right? Did he just say that Chief Shafir blew up the Polaris’ beloved Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer? The natural next question was why didn’t she try to go back and save him from the Jem’Hadar instead?

Captain Lewis was trained not to say more than necessary, but he could sense the shift in the audience, and he felt a debt to Ayala Shafir to not villainize her in front of her colleagues. “If the Chief had not done what she did, when she did, the Jem’Hadar would have retaken the control center,” he explained as his voice deepened and his expression darkened. “And if that had happened, everyone on this ship would be dead.”

A pin drop could have been heard in the silence that followed. But Commander Drake wasn’t one to let such moments sit. Especially if it might warm the audience to his target. “And how did Lieutenant Commander Jordan’s death make you feel?”

“It didn’t,” Commander Lewis replied flatly. “I told you already. I’ve moved past this sort of stuff. It just sort of is what it is.” 

While he said it convincingly, it wasn’t really true. Beneath his cool exterior, Captain Lewis thought back to the governor’s mansion, to that moment right after he’d received the news…

“What’s wrong Starfleet?” the Vorta hissed, unafraid of the blade held to its throat. “You appear to be in a fragile mental state. Was it something we did?” 

Killing the creature would have been so easy. But forcing it to betray its own, to break its vow to the Founders, that would be far sweeter. “You killed four of mine today,” Captain Lewis replied as he stared into the creature’s eyes. “This is personal.” He looked over at his psyops specialist. “Do your worst doc. And don’t make it quick.”

The cold shooter turned to walk away, to leave the creature to Lisa Hall, but suddenly, he spun back around. Without hesitation, and in one swift motion, he drove his blade straight into the Vorta’s thigh. It wasn’t to kill the Vorta though. It was just to make himself feel a bit better. 

The Vorta howled uncontrollably at the pain, and he just stared into its eyes, reveling in the misery. 

Yep, that did make him feel a bit better.

Now it was time for Dr. Hall to have her way with the monster. As she approached the Vorta, strapped to a chair in the center of a the room, there wasn’t a hint of concern or worry on her face. She didn’t care that her boss had just stabbed a restrained, unarmed enemy combatant. For a moment, she just stood there, watching it drown in its agony. A little pain could never hurt. In fact, it would soften the creature up for what she planned to do to it next.

“You really expect us to believe, Captain Lewis,” Commander Drake asked pointedly. “That after losing your number two, a guy you’d spent nearly every day training with for the last two years, that it didn’t make you want to murder the Vorta in your custody?”

“No, it did not,” Captain Lewis replied firmly. “You may find it hard to believe, Commander Drake, but I am a Starfleet officer.”

That wasn’t to say he didn’t murder the Vorta though.