Sheppard remembered a time when he had gone mountain climbing at the age of fourteen, explicitly against his father's orders---or maybe, if truth be told, precisely because his father had forbidden it. He'd been halfway up a particularly hazardous peak when his pitons had ripped loose from where they'd been wedged into the rock surface. Sheppard had swung outward, dangling, one thin rope preventing him from plunging to his death. The moments until his climbing partner had been able to reel Sheppard in and help him get re-anchored had been fraught with tension.
It was just that kind of tension that Sheppard now felt when he walked into the main conference lounge. The sensation that a vast drop loomed beneath all of them, and they were all hanging by one single rope.
Weir was already there, talking with Ambassador Spock and a woman whom Sheppard immediately recognized as Admiral Friedrick Lutes. Lutes butted heads back when a Jaffa warrior known as Hybu was aboard the Atlantis. Weir had refused to infect Hybu with a bio-agent that would have effectively obliterated the Goa'uld, and Lutes had raked her over the coals about it. And they had had any number of fiery clashes since then. Yet now there he was, in the flesh, and he seemed to be perfectly happy to chat things up with the officer he had so mercilessly dressed down before.
Sheppard watched the dynamics of the Weir/Spock/Lutes discussion, and it took him no time at all to discern what was really going on. He noticed that Spock was delivering most of his remarks or comments to Weir, treating her with respect and deference. It was only natural---or, if you prefer, logical---that Spock should do that. After all, Weir had put her own mind on the line to try and help Sarek Spock, Spock's late father. Lutes, by her rapt attention on the Vulcan, was clearly a major admirer of Spock's. That was understandable. The term "living legend" was overblown and pompous, but in the case of Ambassador Spock, it was also bang-on accurate. The fact that the living legend clearly regarded Weir so highly was obviously raising Weir in Lutes's own estimation. He actually laughed in delight at some remark Weir made, and although it was obviously supposed to be something amusing, Weir nevertheless looked shocked at Lutes's reaction.
Well, good. Weir had accomplished so much, and yet sometimes it seemed as if Fleet regarded her with suspicion. Indeed, that they were suspicious because of everything Weir had accomplished. As if it were impossible to imagine that one mere woman could have done so much. That it was----unnatural somehow.
In short, Weir could use all the support that she could get. If that support stemmed from Lutes being a fan of Ambassador Spock, then fine.
That was when Sheppard noticed something out of the corner of his eye.
Sheppard couldn't believe he'd missed him before. There was a Centauri standing over to one side in the conference room. He was tall, remarkably so. What was even more remarkable was that, although the room was brightly lit, it seemed as if the Centauri had managed to find darkness hiding in corners, behind chairs, under the table. Find that darkness and gather it around him, like a shroud, cloaking himself in the shadows as if he were part of them, and they part of him. For that matter, Sheppard wasn't even sure even now whether he had spotted the Centauri because he was sharp-eyed----or because the Centarui had allowed Sheppard to see him.
He was tall and mustached, with his hair cut into an enormous fantail. And he was completely immobile, not twitching so much as a muscle. If it weren't for the level, steady gaze he had fixed upon Sheppard, Sheppard might've wondered whether he was truly alive or a brilliantly carved statue.
Sheppard cleared his throat and approached the Centauri. The Centauri's gaze never shifted from him and his face remained inscrutable. Sheppard came to within two feet and stopped, as if the Centauri had somehow drawn an invisible barrier around him and hung a large DO NOT CROSS sign on it. "Commander John Sheppard," he introduced himself. "First officer of the Atlantis."
For the first time the Centauri made a minimal movement: he inclined his head slightly, "Vito Turhi," he said in a deep voice that was tinged with bitterness. "Former prince of the Centauri Republic."
"My condolences on your tragic loss," Sheppard said.
Turhi gave him an appraising look. "How do you know," he asked, "whether the loss is tragic or not? If you believe the rhetoric of those who brought down my family---those who....." His voice showed the slightest hint of wavering before he brought it firmly back under control. ".....who slaughtered those close to me.....why, my loss of station is one of the greatest achievements in Centauri history." He began to speak more loudly, deliberately capturing the attention of Spock, Weir, and Lutes. "Our conquests, our good works, our achievements in art and literature....the fact that we sculpted order from chaos...."
"Gods spare us from more Centauri rhetoric!"
It was a gruff and harsh voice, and it came from the direction of the entrance to the conference room. Sheppard saw Turhi stiffen as he turned to face the person who'd spoken.
Standing at the door was Admiral Hammond. Next to him was Jay One, who'd met Hammond at the transporter and escorted him to the conference room. Ordinary protocol would have required that it be Weir or Sheppard, the ranking officers, who fulfilled the function. But considering the urgency of the situation, Weir felt it wiser to place herself where she would do the most good.
Next to Jay One was a squat and bulky Senderian. His bronze skin glistened in the light. His broad smile displayed a row of perfect and slightly sharp teeth, and Sheppard found he had a barely controllable urge to knock one of those teeth right out of his head. The Sendarian appeared insufferably smug as he studied Turhi, not even bothering to glance at Sheppard. The fact that he was being ignored didn't bother Sheppard one bit. He felt that if this Senderian looked at him for any length of time, he'd need a long shower just to make himself feel clean again.
Sheppard was not surprised by the presence of a representative from Sender. The Senderians were the Centauri's "neighbors" over in Sector 332-J----a nearby, rival empire who were as ironfisted in their way as the Centauri had been in theirs. But, the Senderians claimed, their ambitions were less overreaching than the Centauri's and their own little empire more compassionate---a contention that did not hold up for anyone with a significant memory capable of recalling some of the fiascoes that occurred during the Senderians' reign. (One of the best known was the uprising on Rizajor, a rebellion that had lasted several lyears and wound up costing the Senderians a fortune in men, money, and prestige before they had finally washed their hands of Rizajor and given the accursed planet and its inhabitants their freedom.)
"Thank you, Mr. Jay, that will be all," Hammond said. His giving an order to one of Weir's officers in Weir's presence----particularly in a noncombat situation---was also a breach of protocol, and he fired a glance at Weir as if daring her to comment on it. Jay One, for his part, just looked blandly at Weir. Clearly he wasn't going to budge until Weir had given her say-so. Weir caught Jay One's look and gave an almost imperceptible nod. Picking up on it, Jay One turned and walked out of the conference room.
"Admiral Lutes, Captain Weir, Commander Sheppard, Ambassador Spock, Lord Turhi," Hammond said by way of brisk greeting. "I suggest we get down to business." He nodded toward the Senderian standing next to him. "This is...."
The Centauri who had identified himself as Vito Turhi stabbed a finger at the Senderian. "I know you," he said slowly, his already partly hidden eyes completely covered by his dark scowl. 'You are.....Bioldyon?"
Bioldyon bowed stiffly from the waist. "I am honored that you know of me, Lord Turhi. One such as I knows of you, of course, but I am flattered that..."
"Save your flattery," Turhi said brusquely.
Bioldyon raised an eyebrow. "I was merely endeavoring to pay respects...."
"Oh, Sender will pay," Turhi told him. "You and all your people will pay most dearly."
Weir stepped forward. "Gentlemen, little will be served by vague accusations of...."
"You are quite right, Captain." Turhi drew himself to his full height. Sheppard quickly realized that "looming" was Turhi's single greatest weapon. "So I will be blunt rather than vague. Our republic has fallen apart. Planets which once honored the ruling class have broken away. Our economy has crumbled, our social organization lies in ruins, and I have every reason to believe that the Sender have a hand in it." He stabbed a finger at Bioldyon. "Do you deny it?"
"Absolutely," shot back Bioldyon heartedly. His cloak of deference was rapidly becoming tattered. "I completely, totally, and absolutely deny it."
"Of course you do," said Turhi. "I would've expected nothing less---from a liar such as yourself."
That was all Bioldyon needed. With a snarl of anger, he launched himself at Turhi, who met the charge with a sneer of confidence. Bioldyon slammed into him, and even as Sheppard moved to separate them he couldn't help but be impressed to notice that Turhi barely budged an inch. Considering Bioldyon's build and the speed with which he was moving, Sheppard would have thought that Bioldyon would've run right over Turhi. Instead Turhi met the charge and looked ready to lift Bioldyon clear off his feet.
"That's enough!" thundered Weir, coming from the other side.
Since Bioldyon was the aggressor, Sheppard and Weir focused their efforts on him. They pulled Bioldyon off Turhi as Admiral Lutes stepped up to Turhi and said sharply. "That was completely uncalled for, Lord Turhi!"
"You don't have to be present at this meeting, Lord Turhi," Hammond put in. "We're extending a courtesy to you. Need I remind you that, officially, you have no standing. Deposed leaders to not rank particularly high in the grand scheme of things."
Bioldyon pulled himself together, steadying himself and nodding to Weir and Sheppard that he had regained his self-control. Weir glanced cautiously at Sheppard and they released Bioldyon, turning their attention to Vito Turhi. Turhi studied them all as if they were insects.
And then, just for a moment, a cloud of pain passed over his face as he said softly, " 'Uncalled for,' you say. Uncalled for." He seemed to roll the words around on his tongue. "Admiral----I saw good and loyal people slaughtered by insurgents. I saw family members carried away while I watched helplessly from hiding. From hiding!" he snarled with such revulsion that Sheppard repressed an inward shudder. "From hiding, as I foolishly let supporters convince me that it was important that I survive. For years my family knew what was best to guide the peoples of the Centauri Republic. And someone goaded them, turned them against us."
"And you wish to blame it on us," said Bioldyon. "Go ahead, if it will please you, no matter how baseless the accusation."
For the first time, the ambassador spoke up. "The accusation," said Spock, "while inflammatory, is nonetheless logical."
"Logical?!" Bioldyon practically spat out.
Spock was unmoved by the vehemence of Bioldyon's reaction. "The Senderians share borders with the Centauri Republic---or, to be more precise, the former Centauri Republic. The Senderian desire for..." He briefly considered the word "conquest" and discarded it as too inflammatory. "----acquisitiveness----is well known. Overt action would possibly lead to undesired confrontation, and therefore it would be logical for the Sendeirans to pursue a course of gradually undercutting the structure of the Centauri ruling class. Such action would obtain the same goals as outright conquest without the proportionate risk."
Admiral Lutes stood with his hands draped behind his back, and said with clear curiosity, "Ambassador----are you saying it's your belief that that was what occurred here?"
"I am speculating, Admiral," Spock replied evenly. "One could just as easily speculate that the Centauri Republic collapsed entirely on its own, through a combination of mismanagement and oppression. The former would have assured the eventuality of disintegration, which the latter guaranteed that---when the fall of the republic did occur----the attitude of the oppressed people would be violent and merciless. I am merely playing devil's advocate."
Weir couldn't help but feel that some mild iron was attached to the comment. Seizing the momentary silence, Weir said, "At the very least, let's be seated and discuss the situation like civilized individuals."
"I agree, Captain," Lutes said. They moved quickly to seats around the large, polished conference table. The only one who seemed to be moving with slow deliberation was Vito Turhi, who took a chair as far from Bioldyon as was possible. Lutes turned to Hammond and said, "Admiral....it's your show. Walk us through."
"Thank you, Admiral." Hammond surveyed those gathered around the table. "Staying with what we know and what's beyond dispute: The Centauri Republic has effectively collapsed. The royal family has been for the most part executed...." He paused to see if the harsh word had any effect on Turhi, but the Centauri's expression was utterly deadpan. Hammond continued. "----as have local governors. Reports are muddled, however, as to any new government which may have taken the place of the royals."
"There isn't any," Turhi spoke up with authority. "I can assure you of that."
"How do you know?" demanded Lutes.
"There were factions," Turhi told him. "Many of them, united only in their hatred for the status quo. Hatred which had its origins---" He turned and fixed his gazed on Bioldyon, but then said simply, "God knows where. In any event...I know their kind. The alliance will hold only as long as it took them to complete their bloody business. But when it comes time to work together, that will be beyond their abilities. They will tear each other to bits. The chaos and confusion which currently grips the Centauri Republic is as nothing compared to what will ensue in the time to come."
"Lord Turhi's assessment would appear shared by the refugees," Weir now said. "For several weeks now, as you all know, refugees have been streaming out of the Centauri Republic. At least half of them were sick, injured, barely alive, and many were dead or dying. The Atlantis was one of several ships assigned to escort them and lend humanitarian aid wherever we could. My ship's counselor, Teyla Emmagan, has been speaking extensively with some of the more---traumatized----individuals. They share stories of disarray, of internecine squabbling. It's not limited to the Centauri homeworld, unfortunately. Various races, whole planets, in fact, whose antipathies had been held in check by Centauri rule, are beginning to lapse into old and bitter disputes. Unfortunately our understanding of all that is happening in the breakdown of the republic is limited by the fact that we know so little of the republic overall. Even the refugees themselves know or understand little beyond what was directly involved in their own everyday affairs."
"They had never intended to," Turhi said, and Sheppard actually detected a touch of genuine sadness in his voice. "We took care of them. We told them exactly what they needed to know, and no more. They were happy."
"They lived in ignorance," Bioldyon snapped back. "You did them no favor keeping them in that state."
"There---was---order," Turhi told him, every word a bullet of ice. "That's what was needed. That's what we provided."
"Lord Turhi," Spock now said, "as you well know----I have been in Centauri territory. I have been to your homeworld."
"Yes. I remember," Turhi said. Surprisingly, the edges of his mouth seemed to turn upward ever so slightly.
"My time there was far too brief to garner a full understanding of your republic's parameters, and the Centauri desire for secrecy bordered on the xenophobic. It would be most helpful to these proceedings if you provided us with a more clear picture of what the Centauri Republic consisted of. The number of systems, the more prominent races."
"The ambassador's right," said Hammond.
"Of course I am," Spock informed Hammond, saying so with what sounded ever so slightly like amazement that Hammond would feel the need to point that out. As if Spock would ever be incorrect. Weir fought down a smile at Hammond's slightly flustered reaction, and in order to cover his amusement, the Atlantis captain said, "Such information would serve to guide us in our decisions. A course of action must be chosen..."
"Even if that course is to do nothing," Lutes said.
"Nothing?" Both Turhi and Bioldyon had said the same word at the same time.
"That is certainly an option," Hammond told them. "I must remind you gentlemen that we have the Prime Directive to consider. As disconcerting, as distressing as the current upheavals must be---it's not within our mandate to interfere."
"So you'll just stand around and watch all the star systems within the republic slide into oblivion?" asked Turhi.
Bioldyon seemed no happier at the notion. "And you'll let a member of the Space Federation---namely ourselves---deal alone with the security threat that the fallen Centauri Republic represents?"
"You should've thought of that earlier," Turhi snapped at him.
Bioldyon was about to fire back a retort, but Hammond quickly cut him off. "We have not made any decision yet, gentlemen. As noted, that is the purpose of this meeting. Lord Turhi---will you tell us everything you know about the Centauri Republic?"
Vito Turhi looked slowly around the room. It seemed as if he were judging every single person in the room individually, trying to determine what he could expect from each and every one of them. Finally he said, "There were, at last count, thirty-seven systems within the republic. Each system has at least one inhabited planet; some as many as four."
"Would you be willing to work with Fleet cartographers to give us a more detailed picture?" Hammond asked.
"Under certain conditions," Turhi said after another moment's thought.
"What kind of 'conditions'?" asked Lutes.
"Let's save that topic for another time. We must stay on topic."
"Just out of curiosity, Lord Turhi," Weir said, stroking her chin thoughtfully, "what is the 'topic' we must stay on?"
Vito Turhi spread his hands wide. "Isn't that obvious?"
"Not to me," replied Weir.
"Gentlemen and lady," Turhi said, looking around the table and pointedly ignoring Bioldyon. "My escape from Centauri space was aided by dedicated supporters, many of whom died in aiding me in my flight." Clearly the thought that he had, indeed, fled, was anathema to him, but he pressed on. "They felt that I was the last, best hope to restore the Centauri Republic to its former glory. And that I would do so by seeking your aid."
"If by 'you,' you're referring to the United Space Federation," Hammond noted, "need I point out that the Centauri Republic is not a member of the Space Federation."
Turhi raised a scolding finger. "Don't confuse isolationism with ignorance. I point out to you that the Psychlo Empire, some seventy years ago, also had not joined the Space Federation at the point that they found themselves in chaos. They were, in point of fact, mortal enemies. Yet the Space Federation welcomed them with open arms." His face turned purple with anger. "Should we Centauri have sought conflict with you? Should we have intruded into your territories, fought you for domination of worlds? Made ourselves a threat rather than simply desire to be left alone? Would you be as quick to cooperate with us as you were with the Psychlos had we done so? Hm?"
"Your description of the chain of events leading to the fall of the Psychlo Empire," Ambassador Spock said with quiet authority, "is somewhat simplistic."
"How do you know?"
"I was there." He paused a moment. "Were you?"
Vito Turhi met his gaze and then, to Weir's mild surprise, looked down at the tabletop. "No,' he said softly. "I wasn't."
"For the sake of argument," Sheppard asked, "how would you have the Space Federation aid you?"
He looked at Sheppard as if the answer were self evident. "Why, provide us with enough force of arms that the royal family can be restored to power. I know the power your fleet possesses. You have it within your power to right this great injustice."
The Fleet officers looked at each other. Then Lutes leaned forward and said, "Didn't you hear what I said earlier? Our Prime Directive forbids our interfering in other societies....."
Vito Turhi slammed the ham of his hand on the tabletop with such force as to shake the table. "There is no society! There is chaos! Anarchy! I'm not asking you to change anything; merely restore the insanity which currently reigns into the order that previously existed. In exchange for your aid," he continued, "I guarantee you that the Centauri Republic will be willing to join your Space Federation."
"It's...not that simple, I'm afraid," Lutes told him. "There's an extensive approval process through which any candidate must go. You don't just snap your fingers and announce that you're in. Furthermore, you're in no position to make any promises on behalf of the Centauri Republic...."
"We were the Centauri Republic, you ass!" Vito Turhi shouted with such force that it shocked everyone into silence. For a long moment nobody spoke, and then Turhi rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking ten years or more older than he had moments ago. "Forgive my outburst," he said softly. "I haven't slept in some time. Being royalty doesn't make one immune from certain----pressures." He lowered his hand and then, with new urgency, he went on, "Let me put it to you this way: It's in the best interest of all concerned to restore the royal family to power. None of you knows what Sector 332-J used to be like. My kinsmen have ruled for two and a half centuries; an unbroken line of ancestors, keeping the peace, keeping order. There are some who might have a problem with the methods, but none can dispute the fact that for hundreds of your years, the Centauri Republic thrived. I have many supporters still in place, but they're scattered and scared. With the armed might of Fleet behind us, however, it'll rally support behind the true line of succession. Trust me, you wouldn't want to see it return to the state that it existed before my ancestors forged it into one of the mightiest empires in the history of our galaxy. If it did backslide in the anarchy that once existed, the number of dead and dying to which you referred earlier, Captain, would be as nothing compared to what's to come."
And now Bioldyon's voice turned deadly. "That would not be advisable."
This tone didn't sit well with the Fleet officers. As much as she was trying to maintain her impartiality, Weir's tone was icy as she said, "Why not?"
"Because we Senderians have our own security to consider. In point of fact, we were intending to send our own ships into Centauri space..."
"I knew it," Vito Turhi said angrily.
Ignoring Turhi's outburst, Bioldyon said, "To be completely blunt, several systems within Centauri space have already contacted us. There's talk of new alliances being formed. They want protection, and we're prepared to provide it for them. If a fleet of USF ships enters Centauri space with hostile intentions, it's entirely possible that they may find themselves in conflict with Senderian ships."
"You think to pick over our bones," Turhi said, and he started to rise from his chair. "You're premature, Senderian. We're not as dead as you would like us to be. And if you come into conflict with us...."
"If by 'us' you mean your beloved royal family, need I remind you that there is no 'us.' Your time is over, Turhi, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you can stop wasting our time."
"Sit down, Lord Turhi," Hammond said sharply, and Turhi reined in his anger before it could overwhelm him. Slowly he sat once again.
Ambassador Spock, speaking in his slow, deliberate manner, said, "I think we can all agree that avoiding violence and an exacerbation of an already difficult situation is of paramount importance?" There were nods from all around. "Very well. With that in mind----Bioldyon, you are authorized to speak on behalf of your government, I assume?"
"You assume right. And you are for yours?"
Spock glanced at Hammond and Lutes and said, "We have not come into this situation unprepared. I have made a thorough study and report of the likely reactions of both the Senderians and the Centauri. Thus far they have stayed in line with the projected probability curve."
Bioldyon made no effort to disguise his confusion upon hearing this pronouncement. Remarkably, he looked to Turhi for clarification. "He's saying we're predictable," Turhi explained.
"Quite so," affirmed Spock. "With that in mind---I have already made recommendations to the Space Federation which, if I am not mistaken, Admiral Lutes is prepared to discuss."
"Thank you, Ambassador," he said. He drummed his fingers on the desk for a moment, gathering up his thoughts. "Bioldyon---since the Senderian are members of the USF, I'm informing you that the Space Federation would consider it contrary to its best interests to have Senderian ships entering Centauri space in any great numbers, inflaming an already inflammatory situation and stirring up hostilities. I'm telling you this informally. If you'd like, a formal resolution can be delivered by the Council."
"I see," said Bioldyon dryly. "And you anticipate that the Senderians will simply sit back and take no action, allowing the Space Federation to enter Centauri space in force and shift the balance of power in a direction they find more appealing. Is that it?"
"No. That isn't it at all. Provided that the Senderians don't, by force of arms, attempt to affect the situation, the Space Federation has no intention of attempting similar tactics, just for," and she afforded Turhi a quick glance, "the personal benefit of a handful of people."
Turhi stiffened, "You don't understand," he said. "This has nothing to do with personal aggrandizement. I didn't ask for my station in life. To be relieved of responsibility----to be normal...." He took a deep sigh, and there was the slightest tremble to his words. "It would almost be a blessing." Then he seemed to shake it off and, more firmly, he continued, "It's not for myself that I seek your help. It's for the good of the whole Centauri Republic."
"You," Bioldyon said coolly, "are in no position to decide the welfare of the Centauri Republic." Before Turhi could shoot back a response, Hammond quickly stepped in. "It's irrelevant to discuss the option. Fleet isn't going to send in armed forces to restore you or any surviving members of the royal family to power, Lord Turhi. It just isn't our way." "I see. Instead your way is to allow billions of people to be swallowed by a spiral of chaos." Spock replied, "That, sir, is overstated. It is also inaccurate." "We're discussing," Hammond continued, "sending in observers. A neutral vessel with a small crew to observe and report back to the Space Federation, so that appropriate action can be taken at the appropriate time." With utter contempt, Turhi said, "What a disappointment the present human race would be to its ancestors. As opposed to the pioneers and warriors of a bygone day, you are now all tentative and hesitant. When a time calls for the strides of a giant, you take small, mincing steps."
"Considering you came to us for help, Lord Turhi," Hammond said in exasperation, "I can't say I like your attitude." And then Commander Sheppard said something totally unexpected. "Turhi is right." If Sheppard had sprouted a third eye he couldn't have gotten any more of an astounded reaction from Hammond, Lutes, and Bioldyon. Spock, per his custom, stayed impassive, and Weir was poker-faced. "Are you saying we should go in there with guns blazing, Commander?" Lutes said with ill-disguised incredulity. "No," Sheppard replied flatly. "Difficult times do not call for extreme measures. But by the same token," and he leaned forward, arms on the table, fingers interlaced tightly, "we are talking about the collapse of an empire. We are, as Lord Turhi said, considering the fate of billions of people. For the Space Federation response to simply be that of passive observation....." "The Prime Directive..." began Hammond.
"The Prime Directive, Admiral, last time I checked, did not appear on the wall of Fleet Headquarters in stone accompanied by a sepulchral voice intoning, 'Thou Shalt Not Butt In," Sheppard said flatly. "It's a guide for day-to-day interaction with developing races so that we don't have umpty-ump Fleet officers running around playing god by their own rules. But this is not day-to-day, Admiral. And we're not talking about playing god. We're talking about showing compassion for fellow intelligent beings. Tell me, Admiral, while you were sitting on Themis Station waiting for us to show up, did you actually walk around and interact with the refugees? Did you see the misery in their faces, the fear in their eyes? Did you help patch up the wounded, stand by the bedside of the dying, say a prayer for the dead? Or did you sit isolated in your quarters grumbling over the inconvenience?"
"That's quite enough, Commander!" Admiral Lutes said sharply.
Hammond smiled grimly. "You'll have to forgive the commander. He and I have some----history---together. The kind of history that prompts him to throw caution to the wind, even in the face of potentially gross insubordination."
If Sheppard seemed at all intimidated, he didn't show it. "The Prime Directive was created by men and women, no better or worse than any of us, and I respectfully submit that if our hands are so completely tied by it that we sit around impotently, then we have to seriously reconsider what the hell it is we're all about."
Hammond's anger seemed to be growing by leaps and bound, but the supernaturally calm voice of Ambassador Spock cut in before Hammond could say anything. "I once knew a man," he said quietly, "who would have agreed with you." There was a pause as Spock's words sank in, and then he continued, "What would you suggest, Commander?"
"We assign a starship to enter Centauri space. One starship---hardly a fleet," he said, the latter comment directed at Bioldyon who already seemed to be bristling. "That ship will serve to report to the Space Federation about what they find within Centauri space----but will also have the latitude to lend humanitarian aid where needed. Furthermore, if the races in question turn to the captain of this starship for aid in rebuilding their empire through whatever peaceful means are available," and when he emphasized the word he looked straight at Turhi, "the starship would basically do whatever is necessary----within reason----to try and make Sector 332-J a going concern again."
"And who decides what's 'within reason'?" demanded Hammond.
"The captain, of course."
"You want to send a starship into a potentially incendiary positon, with possible enemies all around them, any of whom might want their help one moment and then turn on them the next." Hammond shook his head. "Putting aside the battering the fleet took in the last Goa'uld engagement---forgetting for a moment that it would just be sloppy planning to put a ship on such a detail for the benefit of a non-Space Federation member, and for an indefinite period of time---the bottom line is that Sector 332-J is a powder keg and Commander Sheppard is suggesting we ask someone to stick their head into the lion's mouth."
"I would've phrased it without mixed metaphors, but yes, that's correct," said Sheppard."
Hammond looked unamused; it was a look that came naturally to him. "It's sloppy thinking, Commander. It's a completely unnecessary risk."
And Ambassador Spock fixed Hammond with a dead-eyed stare and said, "Risk---Admiral----is our business."
Hammond opened his mouth, but there was something in Spock's gaze that caused him to snap it shut again. There was silence in the room for a long moment, and then Admiral Lutes turned in his chair and said, "Captain Weir----your opinion?"
She tapped her fingertips on the table thoughtfully and then said, "I agree with Commander Sheppard."
"Oh, there's a surprise," snapped Hammond.
"With all due respect, Admiral, you know me well enough to know I would not speak from some kind of knee-jerk loyalty," Weir informed him archly. "I have respect for the chain of command, and for personal loyalty, but first and foremost I do what I feel to be right. Might I point out that if that were not the case, the Atlantis would never have joined the fleet in the recent Goa'uld invasion and you would have far greater problems to deal with than what to do about Sector 332-J."
Hammond's face reddened slightly. Lutes seemed unperturbed as he said, "Point taken, Captain Weir. Admiral----I believe the idea has merit. It may take some doing, but I'm reasonably sure we can sell the notion to the Space Federation."
"Admiral...." began Hammond.
But Lutes was making it quite clear that he was not looking for further discussion. "Do you have a recommendation for an available starship, Admiral?"
"I----" Hammond started to protest again, but then he saw the look of steel in the latter's eyes. He came to the realization that further dispute on his part was simply going to provide amusement for Weir and Sheppard, and he'd damned if he gave them the satisfaction. So instead he switched mental tracks and started running through available ships in his mind. Finally, he said, "One comes to mind. The Universe."
"Wasn't she damaged in the recent Goa'uld invasion?" asked Weir.
"Yes, and her captain killed. Jelantos Anarth. A good man."
"We came up through the Academy together," Weir said. "And I had the----honor of fighting at his side in an earlier Goa'uld incident. He was----a brave man."
"Yes, and his last act was to get his ship clear. Otherwise the damage could have been a lot worse. She's currently being refit and repaired. The crew's been reassigned---all except the first officers. She's awaiting a new assignment; she's angling for command."
"Aren't they all?" smiled Sheppard.
Hammond fixed him with a stare. "Not all," he said snidely. And Hammond took some small measure of satisfaction in watching Sheppard's face fall. "The Universe should be ready to go in approximately three weeks. If push comes to shove, we can probably have her ready in two."
"All right," said Lutes. "Admiral, Captain---under the circumstances, I would look to you for recommendation as to the appropriate captain for this assignment. We will reconvene in your office, Weir, in two hours. Gentleman, lady," and he looked at Bioldyon and Turhi, "it is our hope that this decision will meet with your approval. It is, to my mind, the best we can offer at this time."
"My government will be satisfied," Bioldyon said evenly.
All eyes turned to Vito Turhi as he sat there for a moment, apparently contemplating empty air. When he spoke, it surprised all of them as he said, "I will, of course, be on this vessel as well."
The Fleet personnel looked at one another in mild confusion. "Why do you make that assumption, Lord Turhi?" asked Lutes.
"It's my right," he said. "It's my people, my territory. As you say, you thrust yourselves into a dangerous situation. I still have many supporters, and my presence will give validity to your own. I must be there."
"We protest!" shouted Bioldyon, thumping his fist on the table.
"Save the protest," Hammond said. "Lord Turhi, it's not possible. You're not Fleet personnel."
"The idea has merit," Weir said slowly. "We're talking about an unexplored, unknown area of space. His presence could offer advantages..."
"I said no, Weir. What part of 'no' don't you understand."
"I'm simply saying that you shouldn't dismiss the idea out of hand...."
"Look, Captain----maybe some of us are so lax about the presence of non-Fleet personnel that they'll let teenage boys on their bridge to steer the ship," Hammond snapped. "Others of us, however, know what is and isn't appropriate. Vito Turhi has no business serving in any kind of official capacity on a starship, and I won't allow it."
Now it was Weir who was starting to get angry at Hammond's digs, but Lutes stepped in before the meeting could escalate in hostility. "Captain, I must agree with the Admiral. Lord Turhi---I must respectfully reject your request. I'm sorry."
Vito Turhi rose from his chair and loomed over them. "No," he said. "You're not sorry. But you will be."
He headed for the door and Lutes called after him, "A threat, Lord Turhi?"
He walked out without slowing as he called over his shoulder. "No. A prediction."
ns 15.158.61.20da2
