“You asked for a review, Commodore.”

“I did, Commander Davidson.  So I did.  I had hoped it would yield results sooner, but here we are.”  Commodore Geronimo Fontana sat perched on his chair, reviewing the extensive data that Sector Judge Advocate Archibald Davidson had just handed over.  Davidson stood, hands clasped behind his back in his customary stance.  There was little love lost between the two men.  Fontana had told the JAG officer that he ‘tolerated’ the man’s assignment to his station, and there had been something in there about improving or adjusting Davidson’s attitude.

Archibald ran through the various options he could throw in reply.  Passive aggressive?  Hostile?  Petulant?  Indifferent?  He opted for the fifth option.  Withering truth. “These things take time, Commodore.  We must go through proper investigations, have backgrounds pulled, and multiple verifications completed.  It is complex.”

Fontana kept his own withering stare levied on the JAG officer.  “Fascinating.  You’ve identified several candidates for review.  Most of these are petty criminal offenses.  I’ll yield to your extensive wisdom on how to proceed on those cases.”

Davidson felt the extended pregnant pause poke at his nerves.  “You said most, sir.”

Geronimo’s eyes drifted down as he tapped the PADD until he reached a specific file.  “Taya Monroe.  Out of all those that were reviewed, she is the only one with a Starfleet history.”  His eyes flicked back to Davidson.  “You marked it as”, he scrolled a few inches, “inconclusive.”

Archibald felt the temperature of the room drop a few degrees as the stone face staring from the commodore carried the full weight of the question.  “There didn’t seem to be enough evidence to suggest further review.  The conviction of the accidental death of the daughter of an admiral, on top of the physical attack on the guard, was never really in question.”  And yet, Davidson knew what was about to happen.  He didn’t want to open the case.  The evidence and the additional violence were clear, at least to him.  Taya Monroe had been dishonorably discharged.  Her Starfleet career was over.  He had done his research on the commodore.  He ‌felt like emotions and feelings ruled the commodore versus the logic that ruled Davidson.

Fontana tapped at the PADD and stood, handing it back with a hard look on his face.  “Commander Davidson, you will fully investigate this case to the highest standards.  I expect you to return to me with more concrete language aside from ‘didn’t seem to be’ and ‘never really’.  If Taya Monroe is guilty and deserves her fate, I’ll yield.  Until you have the confidence to get me to do that, you’ve got some work to do.”

Davidson stood at attention and departed the office, the annoyance and stress creeping into his shoulders.

Fontana tapped at his desk, “Send a message.  Have Taya Monroe meet me,” he glanced at his chronometer, “at Glasgow Steakhouse in an hour for lunch.”