Chapter Text
2268
Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of the opponent's fate.
-Sun Tzu
The endgame was near.
The fact that he was here at all was just a literal indication of something he had been sensing now for several months, a quiet instinct that prompted things to be wrapped up, moved along, prepared for. Near could mean months or days, but after all of this time, there was something like an ending in sight. He didn't know what the ending would be, only that one way or another, he would be ready for it -- if he lived, and succeeded, then the results would be predictable so far as his own involvement. If he died, then still no loss.
Captain Spock stood across from him at the briefing table. Dressed now in command gold, but he eschewed the extravagant uniform styles of his predecessor. Expressionless, as always, but Spock could never quite manage to mask the light of curiosity in his eyes with which he tended to view things -- mostly scientific endeavors, but sometimes people, and he was wearing that curiosity now.
Scott just waited. This meeting was unprecedented, but he saw no reason to treat it as anything but professional and casual. Inwardly, he took measure of the Captain as well as the body-guards. Outwardly, he simply stood quietly, patiently. Still.
"You may go," Spock told his body-guards, a clipped command but not angry. Efficient.
The three guards did; one human, two vulcans. All three left reasonable room on all sides of the engineer, a fact that did not escape him, though any grim satisfaction from having trained the entire crew of this ship to stay out of his reach had long since faded.
Once they were out of the room, Spock looked back. "Your promptness is appreciated."
"Sir," Scott replied, an acknowledgment of the statement.
There was no rush; in other meetings, with other people, the silence that fell would be considered awkward. Not here. Here it was only silence, where Spock took time to consider carefully how he wanted to speak and Scott waited. Always waiting.
"I have been reviewing the personnel transfers," Spock said, at length. He didn't sound accusatory; didn't really sound like anything. Most humans would find that seeming unreadability to be disturbing.
Most humans.
"The efficiency of Main Engineering and your division is well within all established parameters. Regardless, your division also has the highest rate of staff turn-over, not only onboard the Enterprise, but throughout Starfleet."
It still didn't sound accusatory, but the light of curiosity was there now. And perhaps a harder edge under it. Scott wasn't sure exactly; he only knew that Spock was taking his time getting to the point. He didn't bother replying. There was nothing to reply to. It was a statement of fact.
The captain looked, if anything, like he wanted to say something that he wasn't sure he should. They were still playing cat-and-mouse. Scott never did bother to count coup, on who won what round, or lost. Nonetheless, the fact that he was here, and that Spock looked almost uncertain, was filed away in his mind.
The endgame was near.
"I would strongly prefer if you improve the staff turnover rate in your division," Spock finally said. It did not seem to be what he had wanted to say.
"Sir," Scott answered. Another acknowledgment. He knew perfectly well that there was nothing, either on the surface or even visible at all that incriminated him in anything. Self-defense was an entirely acceptable reason to kill. He couldn't even be accused of being a bad supervisor, in comparison to some other divisions. His staff was terrified of him, but they were mostly obedient and efficient for however long they lasted, and he never had to use an agonizer.
He just kept them nervously peering into shadows, and glancing around corners. Jumpy. He was fairly sure most of them would rather throw themselves into the anti-matter stream than get within his three feet.
Therefore, while Spock could prefer that the turnover rate was lower, he could do nothing to force that issue without leaving his own position vulnerable. Scott's record, from the very beginning of his involvement with Starfleet, was absolutely unassailable. The fact that he had once been a rebel was the only thing that could make someone question, but the last thirty years had been spent proving his loyalty.
They stood in silence. The captain still looking on the verge of saying something. Scott still waited. Still waiting, always waiting.
For thirty years, he had been proving his loyalty.
For thirty years, he had been giving all of his design talents, all of his engineering ability to the Empire. Once they had him, he never made another protest. Never even hesitated to follow an order. And piece by piece, they used his mind to better Starfleet's entire line of ships. In fact, there could not be many left in service today that weren't somehow influenced by his designs. He was even assigned, finally, to the Enterprise in order to constantly improve the Constitution-class design specifications while they were in use. His improvements were, of course, given a rigorous look-over by the teams in Belfast.
And every one was included.
Spock looked at him, and something in the captain's eyes looked almost disturbed. "One more thing, Commander. The other universe-- I have read your report, but I was curious as to your opinion on it."
Scott didn't blink. "I don't have one."
There was silence for a moment.
"Dismissed."
Scott gave a nod, a brief bow of the head, then turned around and walked out.