“Why is this our problem? Has the admiral agreed? She’s never struck me as one with much patience for fools’ errands.”
“I didn’t get this from her. One of the agency’s directors reached out to me personally.”
That was a surprise. Farkas’s misgivings made more sense in this context. “Must be a slow day in the Alpha Quadrant if they’re suborning mutiny all the way out here.”
“That’s what I thought at first,” Farkas said. “But hints were dropped. I think they’re really worried about something.”
“Did they tell you what?”
“Of course not. They don’t do clarity. They’re spooks. Temporal lockboxes.”
“What exactly did they ask you to do?”
Farkas shook her head. “My sense was that the agent was looking for a friendly ear out here. Someone to report on the admiral’s decisions and keep an eye out for any disturbing anomalies.”
Sal laughed aloud. “That doesn’t sound at all dubious. He wants you to spy for him? Did he at least show you the secret handshake or offer to share his decoder ring?”
Farkas cracked a smile. “Come to think of it, that would have been tempting.”
“So I guess nobody told him that Captain Regina Frances Farkas is constitutionally incapable of straying from the straightest available path. Or that she takes more pleasure in making her superior officers’ ears bleed when they step outside the lines than going over their heads and tattling.”
“Was any part of that a compliment?”
“It’s objective reality. I’m not judging you. Just holding up your mirror.” Studying the worried lines of Farkas’s face, she added, “Why don’t you like what you’re seeing right now?”
“Because after I told him where he could shove his request, he made it clear that if Janeway doesn’t step up, I’m next in line for that honor.”
“Oh. Damn.”
“So, I’ve got a couple of options. I could pretend the conversation never happened. I could report it to the admiral and make sure she knows she’s under a microscope right now. Or, I suppose I could resign.”
“Are you talking to me because you’re wondering what the view is like from the cheap seats?” Sal asked.
“Damn it, El’nor, I didn’t relieve you because I doubt your skill or dedication. You needed to take a beat and reevaluate your actions. You lost critical perspective and endangered your patient. Pissed or not, you know I was right, and I know for damn sure you’ll never try a stunt like that again.”
Sal wasn’t sure Farkas was correct about the last part. “I still don’t know what I could have done differently,” she said honestly.
“You could have come to me,” Farkas said, her voice rising. “I’m not just here for the witty repartee and nightcaps. I’m your best friend and your captain and I have to believe that together we would have found a solution that didn’t include almost killing that poor ensign.”
Sal felt her chin dropping toward her chest as she grasped the full magnitude of her error. On some level she had suspected that Farkas’s actual problem hadn’t been the outcome. Now, she knew. It wasn’t that she’d failed. It was that lack of trust that galled Regina.
And for that, Sal couldn’t fault her.
“But now the boot is on the other foot,” Sal realized.
Farkas nodded somberly. “I can’t betray the admiral. But I also can’t say she’s got my full confidence right now, and if she screws this one up…”
“The hammer falls on you.”
“Yeah.”
Sal moved to sit beside Farkas on the edge of her desk. “Command is such a lonely business,” she said loftily.
“Oh, go to hell. If you’re not going to take this seriously…”
“I wasn’t finished,” Sal interjected. “What does your gut say?”
“My gut is keeping its thoughts to itself right now.”
“It picked a hell of a time to take a break. I’d take your gut’s readings over my fanciest microspectrometer any day. It’s the internal organ I credit with keeping both of us alive this long.”
“I’m going to leave orders in my will to have those words engraved on my urn,” Farkas said.
“That day might not be too far off, come to think of it,” Sal said.
“Is that your expert opinion as my physician?”
“No. It’s my expert opinion as the officer who just concluded that there is strong evidence to suggest that the Galen might still be out there somewhere.” She allowed Farkas to digest this before adding, “I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you that. You can’t put me on report, though, because I’m still not on duty.”
Farkas sighed deeply. “If we’re going after that ship, you may consider yourself fully reinstated.”
“Doesn’t really help, though, does it?” Sal asked. “Our dance cards are probably going to be too full for the foreseeable future for us to backtrack into Krenim space.”
“Actually, it does,” Farkas said, suddenly rising.
“What are you going to do?”
Farkas chuckled. “My duty, of course.”
As she headed for the door, Sal lobbed one last “I’m still pissed at you.”
“Get in line,” Farkas tossed back as she departed.
When Aytar Gwyn burst into a senior staff briefing to announce that the crew of the Galen was still alive, Lieutenant Devi Patel had transitioned quickly from shock to concern. Little Gwyn ever did surprised Patel. The ensign’s spirit was both fierce and independent. Patel remembered thinking the first day Gwyn had reported to the bridge still pulling on one of her boots that the ensign didn’t appear to need anyone’s approval. Paris had dressed her down and Gwyn had shrugged it off. Were it not for her exceptional piloting skills, Patel doubted Gwyn would have lasted this long.
But part of Gwyn’s ability to maintain her individuality and attitude was predicated upon a certain shallowness of feeling. Gwyn probably could access normal quantities of compassion and empathy; she just rarely chose to do so, in Patel’s experience.
Despite this, Patel considered Gwyn to be a friend. Both fell into a category of officers assigned to important alpha shift duties who nonetheless felt somehow “second string” to those among them who had shared Voyager’s seven-year maiden trek. For a long time,
