“The number varied.” The literal truth and no more. Next.

A predatory gleam seemed to brighten the prosecutor’s face. “On her last cruise, scheduled for a fifteen-day duration, you assigned the Bombay nine mission objectives in six star systems. Matériel transport to outposts on Ravanar and Getheon, colony visits to Talagos Prime, Jemonon, and Kilosa. An officer transfer to the Starship Endeavour. A reconnaissance assignment. Two star-mapping assignments. Was this level of activity typical aboard the Bombay since she was placed under your supervision?”

“No,” Reyes said. His throbbing pulse was giving him a headache, and his ears felt as though they must be glowing red. Just for practice, he smiled calmly at Moyer.

“Was the usual workload greater than what I’ve just described, or lesser?”

“Greater,” Reyes said.

His answer sent her scrolling through her notes. “Two days ago, fleet operations manager Raymond Cannella said that, quote, ‘The Bombay was our workhorse. She picked up all the slack.’ End quote. Yesterday, Vanguard executive officer Jonathan Cooper told this board that, quote, ‘No matter how much we asked Captain Gannon to do, she always got it done.’ End quote. In light of these statements, Commodore, do you think that it’s possible that the Bombay was overburdened?”

Defense attorney Liverakos raised his hand slightly from the table, which Reyes took as his cue not to answer. “Objection,” Liverakos said. “Calls for speculation, and seeks to ask my client to potentially indict himself.”

“Sustained,” Desai said from the head of the table.

Moyer didn’t seem the least bit fazed, and continued as if nothing had happened. “Commodore Reyes, could some of the tasks you assigned to the Bombay on her last cruise have been assigned to either the Sagittarius or the Endeavour?”

“Not likely, no.”

“Why not?” The department heads in attendance all leaned forward to catch every nuance of his response.

Damn, an essay question. “Because their mission profiles are radically different. They aren’t suited for full-time support operations. Bombay was.”

“The Endeavour is a Constitution-class vessel, is it not?”

He could already see where Moyer was going, and he pitied her. It would be a long way for her to go to end up back where she started, but he played along, a polite captive to the legal process. “That’s right.”

“Aren’t starships of that class frequently called upon to carry colony supplies, transport critical components, and make new star surveys?”

“Yes.”

“So why haven’t you assigned some of that workload to the Endeavour in the months since it was detailed to your command? According to Vanguard’s operations records, every grid-check and regular colony tour for the past four months was conducted by the Bombay. What made the Endeavour exempt from these duties?”

“The fact that I needed her on a long-term patrol of the Klingon border,” Reyes said. “The Endeavour might be able to handle cargo delivery as well as the Bombay did, but the Bombay wouldn’t have provided the same level of deterrent to the Klingons as a Constitution-class starship.”

“I see.” Moyer nodded and made a notation on a small pad in front of her. “Surely, the Sagittarius could have made the occasional colony tour? Or handled the rush shipment of emergency supplies?”

He wondered if Moyer was making asinine assertions simply to fuel his temper and draw him out. If so, he would have to congratulate her later. “The Sagittarius has other assignments better-suited to her design and crew, Lieutenant. She’s an Archer-class scout vessel. She’s made to go very far, very fast, and not be noticed. She goes to the edge of nowhere and peeks behind the curtains. Her hold is barely large enough to carry her own mission supplies, never mind regular cargo deliveries. Using it for colony runs would be a waste.”

“And the loss of the Bombay wasn’t a waste, Commodore?”

“No, Lieutenant. When a Starfleet ship and her crew are lost in the line of duty, it is never a waste, only a tragedy.”

She paused to digest that. “Of course, Commodore. Your Honor, I request that my last question be struck from the record.”

“So ordered,” Desai said.

Moyer took a breath, reviewed her notes again, then recovered her composure and resumed eye contact with Reyes. “Let’s discuss the periodic maintenance and supply of the Bombay in the weeks leading up to its loss in action, and in the hours immediately preceding its final departure from the station.”

“Very well,” Reyes said, his own anger now subsided.

“Subpoenas to this station’s operations center yielded more than sixty unfulfilled requisitions from the Bombay for spare parts, replacement tools, and backup components.”

She handed a data slate to Reyes that displayed a menu of the unfulfilled requisitions, then continued.

“Unfulfilled requisitions for similar matériel filed during the same period by the starships Endeavour and Sagittarius totaled only fourteen—combined. Six from the Endeavour, eight from the Sagittarius.”

Another slate was pushed in front of Reyes.

“Why do you think there is such a pronounced variance in these totals, Commodore?”

For the first time since his midshipman days, he felt dumbfounded. “Well, the Endeavour is a younger ship than the Bombay was. Almost ten years younger…. The Sagittarius? Well, she’s almost brand-new. And small. Easier to maintain.”

Moyer scrolled through her own slate.

“Your records also demonstrate a sharp discrepancy in the total number of hours these three vessels logged in spacedock receiving scheduled maintenance to critical systems.” She retrieved a thick binder of printed records. “During the past one hundred days, the Starship Endeavour received more than four hundred sixteen hours of maintenance and repair by Vanguard personnel. The Sagittarius received two hundred fifty-one hours of service. The Bombay? A measly one hundred four hours.”

The binder hit the table in front of Reyes with a slap.

“Explain this to me, sir,” Moyer said. “Bombay needed ten times more matériel than the Endeavour, but got only one-quarter as much time in your spacedock. Why?”

Fighting to muzzle his own temper, he concentrated on unclenching his jaw first and on breathing second. He cast an angry glance at his defense counsel, then permitted himself a fleeting glare at Desai. Finally, from beneath a creased brow, he answered, “I don’t know.”

An hour ago, he had dismissed this inquiry as a waste of time. Now he asked himself if Moyer was right. Did I send them out too soon? Were they not ready? Did I push too hard?

Moyer made another small mark in her notes and carried on. “Let’s talk now about this morning’s report via subspace from the Enterprise, and whether better tactical procedures on Vanguard might have prevented the ambush of the Bombay.”

“Objection,” Liverakos said. “Such an inquiry would risk exposing classified tactical information and methods that are vital to the defense of this station, and to the security of the Federation.”

“Overruled,” Desai said. “I’m not going to let you shut down an entire avenue of questioning, Counselor. You may object to the discussion of specific technologies, policies, and methods as necessary. Lieutenant Moyer, please continue.”

Reyes knew that, like any good lawyer, Moyer clearly sensed that she had opened a gap in the information barrier, and would relentlessly exploit it until all his picayune mis-steps and misjudgments were laid bare and daisy-chained into a litany of failure, incompetence, and negligence. He resolved to remember Liverakos’s instruction to keep his answers as monosyllabic as possible, and to just get to the end of the deposition without incriminating himself.

Then it would be time to find a way to stop this witch hunt before it derailed the entire mission and truly made the deaths of Captain Gannon and her crew a waste after all.