Chapter Text
As the agent sometimes known as DeWinter finishes her report, she cannot quite keep the incredulity out of her voice. She sets her notes down, steeling herself for the responses of her superiors.
One of the individuals on the comm clears their throat. “Chester is more unpredictable than anticipated. We cannot afford this in the present delicate situation. I propose she be removed; we certainly have more than enough grounds at this point.”
“It will have a significant impact on our goodwill with the Admiralty,” says another voice. “No. It will be difficult to replace her with a similarly capable commander, and of the three commanding officers assigned in the quadrant, she remains the best candidate. I believe the present situation will persuade her to our line of thinking before long. If not…”
DeWinter shifts her weight, leaning forward. She’s still caught between anger and amazement. She feels she should have seen it coming, but she didn’t. No one sane would have been so eager to throw their career and freedom on the pyre! Chester’s reputation was that of a diplomat, ruthless, yes, and willing to do what needs to be done, which with her background should have made her an ideal candidate for a mission like this against the Dominion. But she jumped the opposite direction, and try as she might, DeWinter isn’t sure where Section 31 might have gone wrong. Where she might have gone wrong, in her handling of Chester.
Unless…
Unless Hawthorne remembers a great deal more than he ought to.
Her superiors, of course, are now fixated on Chester. Chester is easy to fixate on, rather than the bumbling, officious little twit who follows in her wake like a yapping toy poodle. But DeWinter has her suspicions. Retains her suspicions, even if her superiors have elected to ignore them.
“If not, Richelieu?” one of them is saying, anger and alarm in his voice. “If not, then what ? A loose cannon is the last thing we need, and she’s established herself as extremely hostile to the Federation’s best interests with her actions at Respite!”
“If not,” says the individual addressed as Richelieu, “the destruction of one or several Armistice- class starships will more than make the point that Respite might have.”