Ad Astra :: Star Trek Fanfiction Archive ^{Beam me up, Scotty.}

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NCC-2131 (USS Detmer)
Patrolling the Federation-Rihannsu Neutral Zone, Warp 2.5
February 26, 2318 (Stardate 139241.43)
Conference Room Five

On the small viewscreen within the conference room, the chief medical examiner, Captain Melissa Weilani, MD FAME, smiled at Leo from her desk at Starbase Eight. "Hey, Leo. I’ve reviewed the findings from Detmer’s medical staff."

"We appreciate you helping us out. Reter and I feel like there's something missing given the witness accounts and visual records," Leo replied, with Reter seated next to him.

Doctor Weilani nodded thoughtfully. "I can see why. Now, while the chief medical officer’s examination is thorough, I’m puzzled by the probable cause of death. There appears to be an anomaly they didn’t detect—likely because of the limitations of shipboard equipment or maybe the rushed timeline."

Leo jotted down notes on his PADD. "All right. How would that be explained in lay terms, and what can we do here to better understand this ‘anomaly?'"

She continued thoughtfully, "Well… in cases involving Andorians, especially with the subtle chemical imbalances we’ve seen in the subject’s bloodstream, a forensic molecular scan would be key to identifying any irregularities."

Leo furrowed his brow slightly. "Would they have the tools to conduct that kind of scan aboard?"

"They should. They could run a multispectral analysis or a quantum resonance scan—either would help detect any rare or foreign elements."

Leo made a few more notes. "Got it. When I bring this up with their medical team, how should I frame it without stepping on anyone’s toes?"

Weilani leaned forward, her tone shifting into a more clinical rhythm. "Tell their medical team this: 'Based on the nerve damage in the extremities and the latent electrical signatures near the heart tissue, I suspect exposure to an element Andorians are particularly sensitive to. This could explain the sudden cardiac arrest and the failure of the primary respiratory system. I strongly recommend conducting an additional molecular scan to identify any substances known to cause these specific symptoms.'"

Leo jotted it down quickly, nodding as he followed her words. Once he finished, he read the statement back to her for confirmation. Weilani gave an approving nod.

"Perfect. Thanks for that, Doc. We really appreciate you carving out time for us," Leo said, the gratitude in his voice genuine.

Weilani waved a hand dismissively, but there was a smile in her eyes. "No, thank you. I love a good puzzle, especially one like this." She paused, then added with a chuckle, "But do me a favor, will you?"

"Anything," Leo replied, leaning in, matching her grin.

"Keep me in the loop. I can't leave a puzzle half-finished. I'll be up all night thinking about it."

Leo laughed, shaking his head. "Wouldn't want that on my conscience. Don't worry, we'll keep you posted."

Ursula Onyango strode into Detmer's security center on deck five—the nerve center for the ship's law enforcement, overseen by the Sheriff, Senior Chief Taki. She had scheduled this meeting the day before, knowing it was time to dig deeper into the incident. The two petty officers stationed at the reception desk gave her a quick nod and waved her through, as if they'd been expecting her. Within moments, Ursula found herself outside Taki’s office.

"Come in," a voice called out, clear and authoritative. Ursula enptered to find a petite woman with jet black hair twisted into a pair of buns. Taki met her eyes with a sharp grin, one that seemed to say she’d been waiting for this. "Figured it was you. Take a seat, Special Agent."

Ursula mirrored the grin, settling into the offered chair with an ease that came from long experience. "Thank you, Sheriff."

Taki leaned back slightly, her eyes flickering with the casual confidence of someone who had seen it all. "Care for a drink?"

"Wouldn't say no to a coffee. Black as you can make it."

"Cop special, got it." Taki tapped a few commands into the console on her desk. "Tim, two coffees. Extra black," she ordered. With the pleasantries out of the way, Taki turned her attention back to Ursula, hands folded in front of her. "So, what can the SDCI do for me today?"

Ursula pulled out her specialized PADD, its smooth surface flickering to life as she navigated to the case file. She didn’t waste any time, jumping right into her first question. "I reviewed the security footage from the mess hall. The angle of the pickup wasn’t great—hard to see the full scope of what went down."

Taki’s hands went up reflexively, a defensive gesture paired with a sharp exhale. "We can’t always predict the perfect angles. Security cams are for coverage, not storytelling."

"I’m not pointing fingers," Ursula reassured, her tone casual but focused. She was about to continue when a sharp knock on the door interrupted. A tall second class petty officer stepped inside, carrying two steaming mugs. He placed one in front of Taki, then turned to offer Ursula her coffee, the handle precisely aligned toward her.

"Thank you," she said, giving the petty officer a polite nod.

"Thanks, Tim," Taki added, taking a sip as the petty officer left them alone.

"Now," Ursula resumed, settling back into the chair as she cradled her mug, "as I was saying—no blame here. The footage is what it is. But let’s talk cop-to-cop for a second. You know this crew better than I do. What’s the real story with Rol Th'qilres? What kind of person was he?"

Taki exhaled, the weight of her thoughts hanging in the air. "I hate to speak ill of the dead, but he was a real piece of work," she admitted, her tone flat. "Always had to be in control. He liked to manipulate his teams—anyone he thought he could bend to his will. Never got himself into trouble, though. He was too smart for that, and political as hell."

"Ass-kisser?" Ursula offered, eyebrow raised.

"Amazing, right?" Taki smirked. "Not exactly what you’d expect from an Andorian."

"Definitely not," Ursula agreed, taking a careful sip of the coffee. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Ooo, that’s a damn good blend."

"Thanks," Taki said, clearly pleased. "Grown in the best hydroponics bay on Starbase Ten. I’ve got an in with the chief botanist—keeps me well-stocked whenever we dock."

Ursula chuckled. "Might have to beg you for an introduction."

Taki nodded, her smile tightening with impatience. "I’ll see what I can do. Now, let's get back to business, shall we?"

Ursula tilted her head slightly, shifting back into focus. "Fair enough. So, narrowing it down—how would you describe the dynamic between Sutton and Th'qilres?"

"They didn’t really have one," Taki said, her tone matter-of-fact. She paused, her brow furrowing as she recalled the details. "Th'qilres had her on extra duty assignments not even a week after she came aboard. Pulled her from her meals to help with stuff like airlock checks and shuttle repairs. Mundane tasks."

Taki’s eyes sharpened as she added, "None of it was within her normal scope of duties."

"That’s unusual. Did he have the authority to pull from other departments like that?" Ursula asked, eyebrows raised.

Taki shrugged. "On this ship, as long as you don’t bother the chiefs and get the job done, no one asks questions."

Ursula blinked in surprise. "That’s a hell of a way to run a crew."

"Tell me about it," Taki replied, voice laced with quiet frustration. "I don’t like it, but there’s one golden rule: you don’t cross the Gold Ring."

Ursula’s eyes narrowed. "Master Chief Benten?"

Taki nodded. "Benten’s got a chip on her shoulder about something, and the Skipper and XO let her run the crew. As long as the chiefs report no problems, they stay out of it."

"That’s not unheard of," Ursula mused. "Officers letting the goat locker handle things. But… given we’ve got a DB, it’s pretty clear where that kind of hands-off approach can backfire." She paused, her voice shifting. "Have you ever raised that concern?"

Taki shook her head quickly, then leaned forward. "Off the record?"

"Unless it’s material to the case, sure," Ursula replied.

Taki cleared her throat, glancing toward the door before speaking. "I’ve kept my mouth shut. Benten’s not someone you cross lightly, and everyone on this ship knows it."

"You’re kidding."

"Nope," the sheriff said, taking a slow sip from her mug. "She’s got deep ties in the NCO Corps. Made Master Chief in near-record time because of it. She's in the Border Service because she chooses to be here."

Ursula sighed, already seeing the type. "Oh, one of those."

"Exactly. Benten places a lot of trust in her chiefs to run things. But when it comes to commissioned officers? She’s got no faith. Anytime an ensign or a lieutenant’s supervising a job, she’s right there, breathing down their necks, triple-checking everything."

"That cause problems?"

"Plenty," Taki replied, leaning forward slightly. "She’s driving a wedge between the non-comms and the officers. The junior NCOs feel like they’re on an island. And some chiefs? They take full advantage, pushing their work onto the petty officers whether they're ready for it or not."

Ursula’s lips tightened in distaste. "Doesn’t sound like a healthy crew dynamic."

"It’s not," Taki said bluntly. "And I’ve tested the waters. Brought it up more than once, and every time I’m told to ‘trust the process’—let the chiefs handle their own. All it’s done is give some of them license to ignore their subordinates, calling everything a 'trivial concern.' Feels like letting the inmates run the asylum, and I don’t manage my department that way. Never have, never will."

"I can see that. Out of curiosity, do you have any allies who feel the same way?" Ursula leaned in, her tone casual but probing.

Taki paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "A few."

"Names," Ursula pressed, her voice steady but firm.

Taki’s gaze sharpened, studying the special agent for a beat. "You planning to act on this?"

Ursula didn’t flinch. "I'd like to. This ship’s situation is untenable." She held the sheriff's eyes. "Unless you don’t want me to."

Taki hesitated, the weight of her decision clear in the silence that followed. Finally, she nodded, twice and deliberately. "Yes. Please. For the good of the ship."

Ursula tapped on her PADD, taking notes as she spoke. "Which chiefs share your concerns?"

Taki leaned back, ticking off names. "Chief Covington from the boatswains, Chief Lemmi in Ops, and Senior Chief Petrov over in environmental tech. They're just as fed up as I am."

"And no one’s taken it to the XO?"

Taki shook her head firmly. "No one would dare cross Benten. One chief tried, and he's still paying for it. Last I heard, he’s scrubbing conduits at the bottom of DS-Two, waiting for his career to catch up. The rest of us got the message loud and clear."

Ursula winced. Deep Space Two was practically a legend—a dumping ground for the misfits and troublemakers too difficult to keep on regular assignments. "Yeah, that’d be motivation to stay on Benten’s good side. So, what about Sutton? Did she ever talk to you about Th'qilres?"

"Not directly." Taki took a longer sip of her now-cooled coffee. "Two weeks ago, she came to me for hand-to-hand combat training. I’d put up a notice about cross-training a month earlier, but no one really bites on those offers."

"Except Sutton," Ursula noted.

"Yeah. So, we trained—an hour every day before her shift. She was catching on fast, too, but never mentioned what was driving her."

"Okay. Did you sense something was off? Cop’s instinct? Little hairs on the back of your neck?"

Taki paused, considering. "I had a feeling. She was pushing herself hard—really hard. Usually, when someone’s that focused, there’s something driving them."

"Right," Ursula agreed. "If you'd known?"

"I’d have stepped in." Taki’s response was immediate, cutting off the thought. "I would've pulled Th'qilres and his chief for a little talk. It would've been handled." She smirked, her tone shifting. "But…"

"What?"

"I can't lie. There’s part of me that’s proud my student took down an Andorian three times her size."

In the hour before they would break for dinner, Yeoman Zenn returned to the conference room after a full day of asking questions and digging into Benten’s background. Detmer’s chief medical officer, Lieutenant Alexann Morris, MD FCOS, stood near Leo’s desk, her body language stiff as they reviewed the finer points of forensic pathology.

Doctor Morris' irritation was clear. "With all due respect to Doctor Weilani’s... recommendations, I’d like to remind you that my staff and I did the best we could with the resources at hand."

Leo responded with a warm, steady smile. "Doctor, no one’s questioning that. You’ve done excellent work."

Morris' tone remained sharp. "Doesn’t seem that way if you had to consult outside opinions."

"Not at all. It's standard procedure to consult a forensic pathologist during an investigation," Leo replied softly, keeping his tone reassuring. "If we don’t have solid facts, the case could unravel. And, to be fair, during the discovery phase of a court-martial, there will be plenty of additional experts reviewing your work."

Doctor Morris frowned, her irritation giving way to realization. "I... hadn’t considered that."

Leo offered her a patient smile, saying nothing further, letting the moment settle.

After a brief pause, Morris relented. "Very well. Let Doctor Weilani know I appreciate her input. I’ll run the molecular analysis and the quantum resonance scans. My apologies for the misunderstanding."

"No apologies necessary," Leo said warmly. "It’s good to see someone take pride in their work. I genuinely appreciate your professionalism and cooperation."

The doctor allowed herself a small, brief smile. "I’ll have the results for you as soon as I can. By your leave?"

Leo rose and gave her a respectful nod. "Of course, Doctor. Thank you for your help."

As Doctor Morris exited, Zenn stepped aside to let her pass, then waited until the room was clear. "Seems like I walked into a tense moment."

"Doctor Weilani has a strong reputation as a forensic pathologist," Leo explained, glancing at Reter, who observed quietly. "I might’ve bruised Doctor Morris' ego by bringing in Weilani’s blunt feedback on her autopsy."

Reter asked, "Doctor Morris' initial response seemed neither reasonable, impartial, nor sound, considering Doctor Weilani outranks her significantly and is a court-certified expert in forensic pathology."

"Rank aside, it's like starship captains—no one likes being second-guessed on their own ship," Leo explained. "Trust me, I’ve seen full commanders lose it when a higher-ranking officer steps in as an 'armchair quarterback.'"

"'Armchair quarterback?'" Reter echoed, his curiosity evident.

Leo paused, searching for a way to explain. "It’s a term for someone who gives unsolicited advice or criticism, often without the proper expertise. Usually, they’re not the ones actually in the game."

"Doctor Weilani can hardly be considered an amateur," Reter noted after a brief pause.

Leo smiled, raising a finger. "Nor was her advice unsolicited. But in this case, the one sitting in the armchair might be me."

Before Reter could press further, Zenn cleared her throat. "Sir, I think I’ve figured out what’s going on with Master Chief Benten." She glanced toward Reter, uncertain.

Leo caught the hesitation. "Do you mind if Reter sticks around for this?"

"I'm fine if you're fine." Zenn pulled out a chair at the central table. Once everyone had settled, she directed her question to Leo. "Do you remember a case you worked on about six years ago, involving a petty officer named McCallum?"

Stunned, Leo opened his mouth, then closed it. He took a deep breath, trying to recover from hearing the name. "Yes," he admitted quietly. "I remember Patricia McCallum."

Zenn nodded. "Boatswain's Mate First Class Patricia Kimberly McCallum, USS Nogura."

"That was my first case after law school," Leo explained, his speech picking up speed as he recalled the details. "The Border Service ship I was assigned to, USS Decker, put in for repairs after we got into a firefight with two Nausicaan raiders. We docked at Starbase Two for about two months. Most of the crew was reassigned to help at the orbital facility. I was seconded to the JAG office… worked nine cases before the ship was finally fixed."

"What happened with McCallum's case?" Reter asked, his eyes locked on Leo.

Leo’s voice faltered as he continued. "Patricia was referred for general court-martial from a captain’s mast on the Nogura. The charges were conduct unbecoming, failure to obey a direct order, false official statements..." He trailed off, his tone softening. "Her father was Master Chief Patrick McCallum—Hero of the Second Battle of Archanis in the Gorn War. He served in my father's fleet."

Zenn shifted uncomfortably in her seat, taking in the new detail. She had questions but chose to remain silent, sensing Leo had more to say.

"Her father hired a famous civilian attorney, the type who guarantees acquittals," Leo continued. "I was assigned as trial counsel. I offered a plea deal—minimal rehab time and a bad conduct discharge. But Master Chief McCallum… he nearly lost it. Came at me hard, wanted to pull the 'I know your father' card. Expected me to give his daughter special treatment because of who he was—a bona fide Hero of the Federation. He even showed up to negotiations in his dress uniform, wearing every medal he ever earned."

Reter leaned forward slightly. "It sounds like he intended to use your familial ties to intimidate you."

"Exactly," Leo nodded. "But I wasn’t budging. I told him flat out—his daughter needed to be discharged from Starfleet. The evidence was too damning. They pushed back, wanted time served and an administrative discharge instead."

Zenn scoffed quietly as Reter commented, "That’s an entirely unreasonable expectation."

"The civilian lawyer must have thought so too because when I turned down their counteroffer, the master chief went from furious to livid. We hit an impasse, so I withdrew the plea and we went to trial. I spent a day and a half presenting my case, after selecting the members of the court. Then, the night after I finished my final arguments, that sharp-suited lawyer came back, asking for another shot at a plea deal."

He paused, his gaze dropping to the table, lost in the memory. Sensing his shift, Zenn softened her voice. "Sir?"

Leo sighed heavily. "During the negotiation, I played hardball. I was confident I had the conviction locked down. No matter what that lawyer offered, I wouldn’t budge from having her serve the full rehab term instead of the reduced sentence I initially offered." He paused, flexing his hands in his lap as if trying to shake off the weight of the memory. "The morning before the defense was set to present, I was woken up at 0447 by the Shore Patrol."

Zenn closed her eyes, arms crossing over her chest. She knew what was coming; she’d already read the case file.

Leo’s voice dropped lower. "Because of the master chief’s status, the lieutenant commander handling arraignments released Petty Officer McCallum on a personal recognizance release. The master chief had secured a set of staterooms as a courtesy from the base CO. That night, Petty Officer McCallum slipped into her father’s quarters, took his phaser, set it to maximum stun, and... put it to her temple before pulling the trigger."

"That is highly disturbing, troubling, and dismaying," Reter admitted, his voice laced with concern.

"Indeed," Leo replied, his tone heavy. "When the court convened, with her passing, all charges were dropped. Master Chief McCallum, his family, and their civilian attorney took custody of her remains to bring her home. They gave her full Starfleet honors."

Zenn blinked. "You don't think—?"

"I don't know," Leo cut her off gently. "But let’s just say I won’t be getting a First Contact Day card from the McCallum family anytime soon."

"They blamed you?"

"I blamed me," Leo confessed, his hand rubbing his forehead as if to stave off the weight of the memory. "It was not my proudest moment, honestly. Rai even pulled me aside, said I might've been a little overzealous. That trial... it changed everything for me. Changed how I see duty, justice—everything."

His voice had softened, the edges worn by regret. Reter, sensing the shift, placed a hand on Leo’s shoulder, a gesture of steadying solidarity. "Leo, the tragedy of her death lies with her choice. Not with your prosecution, however vigorous or thorough. It was never your burden to carry alone."

Leo gave a small, grateful nod, appreciating Reter’s calm presence. But as he turned back to Zenn, a new tension shadowed his features. "Why bring this up now? What does any of this have to do with Master Chief Benten?"

Zenn hesitated for a moment, knowing the weight of what she was about to reveal. "Sir," she said quietly, meeting Leo’s eyes, "Master Chief Benten is Patricia McCallum’s first cousin."