Chapter Text
“We may be lucky to get out of this without a war,” says Admiral Ross, sounding a little incredulous himself. “The Romulans are demanding your head on a platter. Couldn’t you have just…”
“Allowed an apparent assassination attempt on a foreign officer under my protection to go forward uninterrupted?” deadpans Chester. “It was tempting, but seemed like a bad idea at the time.”
“It’s a hell of a mess you’ve dropped us in, Chester.”
You’re not the one who just proposed to the worst person you know! “Of that, I am painfully aware, sir.”
“Admiral Toreth is livid,” he says. “Apparently, she’s one of his extended family. She also informed me that Subcommander Tanek’s mother is also livid, and quite powerful, especially since you chose to make your proposal in such a, and I quote, ‘flagrantly obscene manner’.”
“You’ve seen the security recordings,” says Chester. “It was very much not my intention to do anything of the sort.”
“And we don’t know enough about the finer points of Romulan culture to understand exactly what you did, or if the Romulans are even telling the truth about this. Your friend Captain Sotek is one of the very few Starfleet officers who might—I’d suggest talking to him. I’ve sent a query to others of our diplomatic staff, but it will take time to get a response.”
Sotek spent the last few months of the war assigned to the Federation mission to Romulus. He might indeed. But it’s certainly discouraging that he’s considered an expert.
Also, the idea of explaining to him exactly what she’s done is a horrible one.
“In the meantime, we’ll do what we can. We certainly are all familiar with cultural misunderstandings in this line of work—even ones where one party isn’t receptive to the explanation. We can handle the Romulans.”
“Thank you, sir. If it’s worth anything, I feel like a complete idiot.”
“If it had been a genuine attack, and you hadn’t intervened, we’d all be in one hell of a worse situation.” He shakes his head. “But I won’t tell you that I don’t wish you hadn’t chosen that particular corridor to walk down.”
“Well,” she says, “I’d like to make it perfectly clear that I’m not marrying him.”
“If only that was the problem at hand.” He shakes his head. “There’s one bit of possibly good news here. Admiral Toreth wants to speak with you personally. She sounded like she was willing to consider some kind of compromise, but wouldn’t say what it was.”
“How likely is she to stick a knife in my back?” Chester means it as a joke, but Ross’s face clouds over.
“Believe me, I had to talk her out of it.”
“Captain Chester,” says Admiral Toreth, and turns a little to level a very unpleasant smirk at Chester. She’s standing by one of the windows in her sparely appointed office that somehow manages to still look more lived-in than Chester’s own quarters do. “Do come in.”
The usual swarm of staff aren’t present. It’s just the two of them, and the Admiral’s bodyguards. It may be Chester’s imagination, but the two officers are looking at her with more than the usual threat. Like they’ve already determined five efficient ways to kill her and are now entertaining the more elaborate methods.
Cultural misunderstanding, she reminds herself. It happens. This is part of being in Starfleet—dealing with the fallout.
“Admiral Toreth,” she says. “Thank you for making the time to see me.”
“Something that pleases you a very great deal, I’m sure,” says Toreth, somehow incredibly sarcastic without much inflection in the statement. “I’d offer you a seat, but we’re well beyond courtesy now.”
“So I have gathered. I apologize for my error and my interference in what was clearly a highly sensitive cultural event. I had no intention of impropriety; I was concerned for the Subcommander’s welfare.”
“Of course you were,” says Toreth and sweeps a disdainful evaluating look over her. “Humans assume that all other species share their softness and sentimentality.”
“With all respect, madam, one individual attacking another with a knife is usually a fairly straightforward situation. You entrusted Subcommander Tanek’s safety to me when you assigned him to my crew. Failing in that obligation was out of the question.”
“Captain, you misunderstand me.” Toreth looks sidelong at her. “I do not care about your reasons. Neither does Subcommander Tanek. And his family, particularly his mother the Senator, certainly do not. You are an alien who has presumed to proposition a child of one of our most illustrious families in a presumptuous and obscene manner. It’s a profound insult. Certain of his mother’s faction are already calling for armed reprisals. The Federation has once again shown its true face, they’re saying. Look at how they’ve humiliated one of our soldiers, a man simply here to serve his Empire and promote peace between our peoples.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” says Chester. “I had no intention of proposing marriage, or propositioning Subcommander Tanek. Our relationship is purely a professional one,” despite his tendency to be an enormous jerk, “and I intend to keep it that way. If there is any remedy or apology I can make, I would appreciate being informed of it.”
“Your superiors have made it clear that killing you is unfortunately out of the question,” says Toreth.
Chester keeps her face still, which is probably a giveaway in and of itself. She assumed that Ross saying the Romulans were calling for her head was an overstatement. Apparently it was not. “I would hesitate to disobey their wishes,” she says, her voice very dry. “Is that the only appropriate response, then?”
“Allow me to make your position absolutely clear, Captain. Tanek is a child of one of our highest houses—one in disgrace at the present time, but dignified nevertheless. Were you Romulan—” She looks Chester over and huffs a small laugh at the absurdity of the idea, “your actions today would have been offensive enough. You are of no high family even among your own people. As I understand it, your mother is a food vendor, and your father studies insects.”
Chester just raises her eyebrows, a that matters? expression.
“As it is, you are not Romulan.” Toreth leans back against her desk, folding her arms. For someone so supposedly incensed on behalf of her kinsman, she seems pretty pleased with herself. Then again, the Romulans are probably planning to milk this for all it’s worth. “And as Admiral Ross has made it clear that killing you would be more diplomatic trouble than it’s worth, our options are sadly limited.”
“I would imagine Tanek would has some kind of a say in whether he accepts my proposal,” says Chester, still very dry.
“He does,” says Toreth, “which is again why it’s a pity your death is not an option. Your actions were a profound insult, and he would have been well within his rights to kill you for it. And his mother has made it clear to me that if he failed to do so, as an albeit distant member of the household, the duty would fall to me.” Another tight unpleasant smile; her eyes glitter with genuine amusement. “You have made some very powerful enemies with this little incident, Captain.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She can only imagine what might have happened if they found out how many other times she’s hauled Tanek’s stupid carcass out of trouble. “Look, Admiral, I meant no disrespect to Tanek or to his—your—House. If that’s not an option, can I break it off on my end?”
“An alien woman laughably far below his station deciding that he wasn’t good enough for her?” An eyebrow goes up, and derision twists Toreth’s face. “You would compound the insult a hundredfold.”
Chester bites back her annoyance, resists the urge to bury her face in her hands. “Very well then,” she says. “Clearly our peoples do not yet understand each other—what would you propose, Admiral? I am sure you have an idea, or the displeasure of my superiors be damned, you would simply kill me. The Gamma Quadrant is a large and dangerous place, and I’m well aware of my own reputation.”
“None satisfactory as of yet,” says Toreth, and her fox’s smile grows wider. “The diplomats will be very busy indeed handling it. I’m sure there are some appropriate reparations they’ll settle on.”
Chester’s heart sinks. She can imagine the sorts of things the Romulans will ask for, in order to ‘forget’ this incident.
She wonders what the hell Tanek thinks of the whole mess. If he’s pleased with himself right now, having won this diplomatic advantage for his people. Or if he’s as embarrassed as he looked when she first flattened him.
Who is she kidding. It’s the former. He’s probably delighted.
“So what happens in the meantime?” she asks. “I’m sure allowing the insult to sit and fester isn’t ideal. And I’m sure that simple diplomatic reparations don’t entirely address an insult of this magnitude.”
“They do not,” says Toreth, “but we are a practical people. It may yet be dismissed as a girlish escapade. Your age will aid that, at least—by our standards, it’s laughable that you’re in command of a starship—and we will simply…I believe the human term is sweep it under the rug .”
“How fortunate.”
Toreth’s wintery smile returns. “Yes. You should be fully aware how fortunate you are that we are not pursuing this issue. You are a loutish stupid impulsive alien girl, and that is the reason you are still breathing.”
That’s a bit much. “Admiral, I do believe you’re in danger of enjoying yourself.”
Toreth’s expression makes it clear just how little she thinks of that sally.
“Will you be reassigning him, then?” Maybe there’s a silver lining to this absolute shitstorm. Oh, she’ll still have to deal with some variety of Romulan garbage, she knows that, but not having to deal with Tarek’s particularly enraging flavor of Romulan garbage would almost make the whole mess worth it.
“No,” says Toreth. “That would be conceding the gravity of the insult, making, as you pointed out, the reparations insufficient.”
Dammit. “Very well. Will that be all, Admiral?”
“This is my government’s official stance on the matter.” Toreth gives her a considering look. “My cousin may yet decide to take matters into her own hands.”
So a Romulan Senator may have significant personal motivation to kill her. Fantastic. “Should she do that, Admiral, I would take it as a kindness if you were to remind her I was the one to offend her…and to leave my crew out of it.”
“She may just require that reminder.”
Subcommander Tanek of the Tal Shiar does not panic.
If he were ever to allow his anxiety to master him—which he will not—it would be about something of actual significance. A Borg incursion. A threat to his House and family. The imminent destruction of all civilization in the Alpha Quadrant. It would not concern a young, foolish Starfleet captain, or a cultural misunderstanding, or an incident that, while embarrassing, his superiors have already assured him will allow them to wring significant concessions from the Federation.
But he cannot settle his mind. She brought him down hard, absolutely dedicated, a ferocity in her expression completely out of character with her soft complacent species. For a moment, he had actually wondered if she meant it. That possibility, terrifying in its implications and utterly ridiculous to expect from a human, is one he still cannot fully discount.
The alternative, of course, is that she’s playing another game entirely. There must be some advantage to this. His superiors are sure it was mere stupidity and ignorance that drove her; they’re accepting the Federation explanation of a cultural misunderstanding at face value. But he knows Chester better. He has studied her record in more depth than they have, aiming for an understanding of the officer he would have to work with, and, when this brief truce reaches its inevitable conclusion, dispose of. He has seen her cornered and in combat now, and he has fought her himself—the last, the most informative, confirmed his suspicions.
Chester may be young, but she is not inexperienced, she is not impulsive, and she does not do anything without a reason. There is a great deal of thought going on behind that blandly pretty face and those placid human eyes, a wiliness and ruthless strategic calculation that would do any of his own trainers proud.
She must have done this for a reason. The idea a blunder this monumental would be anything but intentional is a laughable idea. The worst part of it is, Tanek cannot identify what it must be, or what she is up to, and his superiors won’t even consider it. Either this is somehow genuine, which is horrifying in and of itself, that she believes it will work , or Captain Chester is three steps ahead of him, enacting some complex plan to defang him, use him against his own people, and he cannot see what it is.
It is that, and not the idea of her looking at him with something other than barely-concealed disrespect, that makes him feel like he’s suddenly on uncertain ground. Whatever she is doing, she has outmaneuvered him to an alarming degree. His superiors believe they will gain a great deal from this incident. Tanek knows they will not. It is never a good idea to ascribe an incident to the stupidity of a foe. Particularly one you know is anything but stupid. It is this looming threat that alarms him. Chester is using him. How, he does not know. She saw her chance, and she took it without hesitation, putting her plan into motion with vicious efficiency.
It alarms him. But it does, on some level, merit a degree of grudging respect.