“Fair point,” Farkas conceded. “While I understand and respect your position and the DTI’s mandate, I have also witnessed firsthand how incredibly complicated and delicate matters of temporal manipulation can be out here on the front lines. I don’t doubt that the admiral’s past experiences in this matter have given her all the insight required to judge your agent’s recommendation on its merits and determine how to properly address it.”
Dulmur’s chin dipped slightly and his voice dropped a little as he said, “I wish I could agree with that assessment, Captain.”
“If that’s the problem here, I suggest you take it up with the admiral’s superiors, Director Dulmur.”
“It is certainly one of the many options open to me, Captain, but I was hoping we might find a way together to head off such unpleasantness.”
Farkas paused. She knew that to ask more was to wade into an area that was beyond her purview. But Dulmur didn’t strike her as an idiot. If he was reaching out to her, well outside the normal chain of command, he had a reason. She just wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it.
“I assume this has something to do with our efforts to untangle the mess that the Krenim, Rilnar, and Zahl made of Sormana?” Farkas ventured. These included the discovery of a temporally displaced version of Kathryn Janeway and a number of unresolved questions surrounding the actions of the father of their daughter, a Krenim agent named Dayne. Farkas had never been so happy as when Sormana was put in her rear sensor feed. She had been one of many voices counseling patience from the admiral in relation to Dayne, the denzit; the child, Mollah; and the entire Krenim Imperium. If Janeway’s gut told her to leave the situation be, Farkas wasn’t going to object to that for a second.
“It does in the sense that the chain of events reported to the DTI by the admiral put the Krenim on the DTI’s radar and warranted further investigation of their actions.”
“Happy to help,” Farkas quipped.
“But it’s more than that.”
Of course it is.
“I am not in a position to disclose to you the nature of the indicators that have arisen as a result of our analysis of the Krenim,” Dulmur continued. “What I am saying, officer to officer, is that our concerns are incredibly well founded and Agent Lucsly’s directive was not issued out of an abundance of caution or a desire to annoy the admiral.”
“Why would the admiral suspect that?” Farkas asked.
“Lucsly and Admiral Janeway didn’t begin on the best of terms. It is my belief that they are both committed, body and soul, to doing right by their people and the Federation. My fear is that personal considerations might drive the admiral’s choices—ones for which I wouldn’t blame her in the least. I was present during her debrief by the DTI when her ship first returned to the Alpha Quadrant. Lucsly defends temporal equilibrium with the passion of a zealot. And you and I are better for it. But Janeway doesn’t know him like I do, and any number of reasonable responses to that first meeting on her part could lead all of us in a dangerous direction.”
“So exactly what are you asking of me?” Farkas demanded.
“Misunderstandings can complicate any humanoid interaction. I’m not suggesting that you march into the admiral’s office and demand that she comply with Lucsly’s orders. I would just like to establish and keep open a line of communication with you so that in the event the admiral opts to ignore the directive, you and I might work together to find a way to at least make sure that if further evidence presents itself relating to the DTI’s concerns, you would feel comfortable reporting it without violating your duty to obey your commanding officer.”
Finally, merciful clarity.
Farkas inhaled deeply. “You and I don’t know each other at all, Mister Dulmur,” she began. “So allow me to help you out here. What you are asking might sound to you like political expediency. From another point of view, it could also be interpreted as contemplating, hell, conspiring to commit mutiny.”
Dulmur started to interrupt but she rolled right over him.
“I am all for keeping lines of communication open, but the proper channel in this case exists only between your Agent Lucsly and Admiral Kathryn Janeway. Neither of them tripped over something and landed in their current positions. Both understand their responsibilities and take them seriously. Any disagreement between them as to the best course of action is between them, and the only recourse available to you or me lies in taking the matter to their superior officers.
“I’m not your girl here, Director. I don’t play games and I don’t lie by commission or omission to those whom I have sworn honorable service.”
Dulmur nodded slowly. “It was not my intention to suggest otherwise.”
“Then you shouldn’t have,” Farkas said simply. “As I said, the admiral has not chosen to include me in this issue and until she does, I will take no action to undermine her authority or decisions. You might have a problem here, but I am not the solution. Have I made myself perfectly clear?”
“You have, Captain. Before I sign off, permit me to add further clarity to the situation for you. Agent Lucsly has briefed all of his superiors on the evidence and rationale behind the directive he issued. That includes both the Director of the DTI, Laarin Andos, and the C-in-C of Starfleet Command, Admiral Akaar. They fully expect the admiral to comply with the directive in question, and outright refusal on her part will likely lead to the suspension of her command. You are the most likely replacement should that occur. Bottom line, someone is going to be tasked with establishing normalized relations with the Krenim Imperium. Were the admiral my friend and my commanding officer, I would want her to be aware of those facts. You may certainly disagree. But that’s where we are right now. Do
