Who Watches the Watcher?

[Cmdr JFarrington 0]

Joint Personal Log

Admiral Atragon-9 and Cmdr Jami Farrington

Stardate 500501.30

USS Manticore, NCC 5852, at Wolf 359

 

"Who Watches the Watcher?"

 

Over the past few days Jami Farrington had become quite concerned about Atragon's behavior, but she had attributed it to a combination of factors. Extended deep space duty, which could play tricks with the mind of the most seasoned Starfleet officer, seemed to be de rigueur for Manticore. Add to that the pressure of being charged with covertly protecting the fleet during ceremonies commemorating the Battle of Wolf 359, and you had an entire crew fighting off insanity. It was therefore understandable that their commanding officer would also be on edge.

 

But this time Atragon had gone too far.

 

He was being held under house arrest in their quarters after having been relieved of command. As Jami made her way there she considered the series of events that had, only moments ago, brought activity on the bridge to a standstill.

 

Sensors had picked up an anomaly trailing the USS Hawk and Manticore had sent a shuttle to investigate. Since the latest technology, a phased cloak, had been tested successfully, the shuttle was to approach the anomaly under cloak, run passive scans, then return to Manticore. A simple task, except that several things went wrong.

 

Just before and just after the shuttle engaged cloak, strange power readings were picked up in their vicinity. Static. Low-level interference. Background noise. Engineering Chief Garnoopy, justifiably concerned, asked that the shuttle be recalled, citing the possibility of a cloak failure, which could result in an explosion the size of a warp core breach and take out half the fleet. Admiral Atragon's reply was nothing short of astounding.

 

"NOW you start jumping up and down about this, Garn?"

 

Unabashed, Garnoopy continued, "Admiral, the phase cloak still needs to be tested, as I stated before."

 

"AND you stated that it ran a perfect test, and we NEED it now!"

 

"The original phase cloak ran a perfect test, then the Pegasus exploded killing nearly all aboard."

 

"So, let's just get it done so we can get it back here and turn the cloak off, if that's OKAY with you, Lt. Commander!?"

 

"If something is wrong with the phase cloak, we needn't risk the crew onboard Admiral. We can send a normally cloaked shuttle to do the task. It's riskier, but if it saves the three lives out there, . . . " Atragon hadn't even let him finish. Jami remembered turning to look at them, wondering how far this conversation would go.

 

And Atragon continued, his tone becoming more and more condescending, bashing Garnoopy. "Life is risk, Chief. Black Ops is intense risk, or didn't you see that part of the brochure?"

 

Garnoopy grit his teeth, and would probably have come face to face with Atragon had he been close enough. "Admiral," he began slowly and evenly, visibly containing his anger, "We're talking about three lives out there on an untested piece of extremely dangerous and volatile technology."

 

"Chief," replied Atragon, copying Garnoopy's tone, his inflections, his body language, in an attitude of total disrespect for Garnoopy's expertise and experience. "I think I've had enough discussion of my ORDERS for now. Thank you."

 

One by one the bridge officers, charged with protecting the ship and fleet every bit as much as the Admiral was, questioned the wisdom of using the phase cloak, citing the safety of the shuttle crew, the safety of the Manticore, and the safety of every ship in the fleet. Atragon's response was to mock, to jeer, then to order the even-more-dangerous maneuver of running the phased shuttle through the USS Hawk and use active scans to detect what it was towing. It was an order that no one could allow in good conscience.

 

For the safety of all involved, Atragon was relieved of command and ordered to his quarters under guard. Unfortunately, he had refused to leave the bridge, forcing Captain Sovak to disable him with a Vulcan neck pinch. After taking a few minutes to regain her composure, Jami had excused herself from duty and was now en route to their quarters. She didn't know exactly what she would do, but she knew she had to do something.

 

Upon entering, Jami found Atragon lying on the couch, still unconscious. Since waking him would have probably done more harm than good, she removed her tunic jacket, folded it neatly and placed it over the back of a chair. Then she sat down quietly in an armchair opposite the couch and waited for Atragon to awaken, taking the next few minutes to rein in her emotions and gather her thoughts.

 

Soon Atragon began to stir. "Wow, what a headache," he said, putting his hand to his brow. He sat up a little too quickly, winced, then slowly opened his eyes. "What am I doing here?" He looked confused. Disoriented. Jami rose slowly, still very unsure of the situation. She turned to fetch an analgesic and some water, just about the only thing that will cure a neck pinch other than a very long nap.

 

"Hello, love. Quite a mess I'm in, eh?"

 

Without responding, she handed him the analgesic and the water, waited for him to take it, and sat next to him on the couch. "I would say so," she said, her voice even, neither accusing nor questioning. Forget he is your husband, she thought. Forget that he is an Admiral. Treat him as a patient.

 

"But they just don't understand." Atragon seemed to want to continue the argument that had ended so abruptly on the bridge. Jami sat back to listen. "The Wolf. We have to destroy the Wolf and its cargo."

 

"The Wolf?" As far as Jami knew there was no USS Wolf in Starfleet, much less in orbit of Wolf 359.

 

"The wolf out there! The wolf in sheep's clothing!" He shook his head, as though to clear it. "No! I mean the Hawk! The USS Hawk, Jami."

 

"A wolf in sheep's clothing? The USS Hawk is a threat?"

 

"Jami, I need your help. I have to get back to the bridge. I have to make sure the Hawk is neutralized. You see, I know . . . I have been . . . " He dropped his voice, glancing around the room as though someone else were there listening. "You have to trust me," he whispered.

 

Treat him as a patient.

 

"There are things I have been told. Secrets I have sworn to keep. Even from the crew. Even from . . . you."

 

It was out of her mouth before she could stop it. "Like the implant in your head?"

 

Atragon recoiled momentarily, shutting his eyes. Then he attempted to explain, "The nodule in my brain was implanted when they gave me command of Manticore. It was something the Consul General supervised and was a requirement of command. Sometimes I look back on it as a test of my commitment. Most of the time I understand it, especially with the planet killers we carry."

 

Oh gods. The planet killers. Something she wanted to forget, but dared not. Jami shifted her weight, still skeptical of his ability to reason clearly.

 

Atragon must have picked up on her body language. He sighed. "Jami, haven't you ever wondered why I've never let you run a full diagnostic on me? Why I avoid Mele's physicals? The nodule is not in my medical records. But forget about the switch in my head, dammit! You've got to trust me. The crew has to trust me. I have to neutralize the Hawk!"

 

Jami stared at him, incredulous. "How can we? After the performance you just gave?"

 

He became agitated again, his voice rising with every phrase. "I know it's dragging a horrible weapon behind it. It's just waiting for all of the ships to arrive. Don't you understand???!" With that he had risen and confronted her physically. He looked -- and sounded -- like a madman.

 

Jami began to lose control. "How can you ask anyone to trust you when you sound like . . . like Captain Ahab? If you want us to trust you, you have to at least behave like you know what you're doing. No one will trust a commanding officer who throws a fit every time another officer questions him. If you want *us* to trust *you*, *you* must trust *us* to do our jobs."

 

"How many commanding officers are questioned every time they give an order? This isn't command by committee!"

 

"The only commanding officers I know of who don't listen to the advice given to them on the bridge and WEIGH it accordingly instead of treating it like a THREAT to their COMMAND are officers who are all washed up and in an office somewhere pushing papers. Is THAT what you want?"

 

"We have to be willing to take risks to perform our jobs."

 

"Being willing to take risks and risking their lives without cause are two different things!"

 

"But there *is* a cause! The greatest cause of all! I just . . . cannot tell them what it is."

 

Jami stood there, unresponsive, waiting for him to tell her, though she knew it would not be forthcoming.

 

"Jami," he said finally, "it all comes down to this. Do you trust me? Right here and now?"

 

She didn't. She couldn't. "Maybe you need a little time off to sort this out."

 

"We don't *have* a little time. The ceremony is in two days."

 

"Then we have two days."

 

"If we don't neutralize the threat beforehand it will be too late."

 

"Then give me one day," she said, realizing a split second afterwards that she had suddenly put the entire matter on her own shoulders. That maybe . . . just maybe she might believe him. Either that, or she had slipped neatly into his trap.

 

"I will allow you one day," he replied, as though he were in charge. As though he could do anything about it if it didn't happen. "And then, I must take matters into my own hands. Personally."

 

For a long minute they stood there, eyeing each other as though in judgment. What did he mean by that last remark? How could he take matters into his own hands? Maybe he was insane. Maybe this deep space covert operations business had finally gotten to him. And yet, there was always that chance, no matter how remote, that he was right.

 

Jami sighed, turned, picked up her tunic jacket and slipped it on. "I have to get back to work," she said as she walked purposefully towards the door, habitually straightening her uniform.

 

"Oh, and make sure the guards stay away from being right in front of the door."

 

Jami stopped short. Of course. One well-placed telekinetic zap and they would be on the ground, out cold. She made a mental note, nodded without turning around, and continued out the door, unsure of what she would do next.

 

Well, first she had to warn the guards.