BELAY THAT."
Chaput's hand froze over the phaser control as her captain's voice stopped her a moment before she could open fire on the Excelsior.
Admiral Harriman turned and looked at his son. "What did you say?"
"Belay that order, Chaput," the captain said again. "Stand down from battle stations."
Blackjack advanced on his son. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Taking back command of my vessel."
"The hell you are." He turned back to Chaput. "I order you to carry out my last order!"
"Don't do it, Chaput," Harriman said. And the tone of his voice was so firm that she tucked her hands under her legs and sat on them. "Admiral, I say again, I am taking back command of my vessel. You are relieved of duty."
Slowly Blackjack Harriman's face purpled. He stepped in close to Harriman. "There are specific regulations under which a subordinate officer can relieve a superior officer. Do you feel that any of them apply to this?"
"Yes, sir."
His voice became deep and dangerous as he said, "Which ones?"
"All of them. And one more." Harriman leaned in close said, "You've really pissed me off. Now get off my bridge." Blackjack's fists clenched and unclenched. "This is mutiny. This is nothing less than mutiny."
"Call it what you will. I say again, however … get off my bridge, or—"
"Or what? Or you'll order security officers to commit mutiny as well as remove me?"
And Harriman shook his head. "No. I'll do it myself."
Blackjack blew his stack. "You little ingrate! Do you have any idea the number of times I've interceded for you! The times I've protected you! You owe your command to me! And this is the treatment you feel is due me?" His voice grew louder, more outraged, and the captain simply stood there, arms folded, and took it without flinching.
The admiral turned away and sat in the command chair. Icily, he said, "Even Kirk never did something like this. Not even he treated a superior officer in such a high-handed fashion. You're worse than he ever was."
"We all have to aspire to something, Admiral. Will you leave the bridge quietly?"
The admiral leaned back in the command chair and cracked his knuckles. "Nothing is getting me out of this chair. Now advise your helmswoman to obey my orders. Either that or try to remove me … if you think you've got the stones."
"Very well," said Harriman, unperturbed.
The bridge crew held its collective breath.
And Harriman, calmly, touched the comm switch on the helm console and said, "Bridge to transporter room. Lock onto the command chair and beam the occupant, into the brig."
The admiral's jaw dropped and he tried to leap from the command chair, but it was too late. The admiral, vanished in a twinkling of light and hum of molecular displacement.
No one on the bridge could quite believe it. And then, after a moment of dead silence:
"Sir," said Dane finally, "that was utterly inappropriate. In all my years of discipline and background, in all my upbringing … I have never seen a display such as that."
"Your point being, Dane?"
"The point being, I thought it was a hell of a display. Because I wasn't sanguine about firing on Excelsior."
"Neither was I. I trust you'll testify to that effect at my court-martial?"
"Absolutely, sir."
"Thank you, Dane. I knew I could count on you. Now … Z'on, raise the Excelsior, pronto. Let's find out what the hell is going on down there.
Chaput's hand froze over the phaser control as her captain's voice stopped her a moment before she could open fire on the Excelsior.
Admiral Harriman turned and looked at his son. "What did you say?"
"Belay that order, Chaput," the captain said again. "Stand down from battle stations."
Blackjack advanced on his son. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Taking back command of my vessel."
"The hell you are." He turned back to Chaput. "I order you to carry out my last order!"
"Don't do it, Chaput," Harriman said. And the tone of his voice was so firm that she tucked her hands under her legs and sat on them. "Admiral, I say again, I am taking back command of my vessel. You are relieved of duty."
Slowly Blackjack Harriman's face purpled. He stepped in close to Harriman. "There are specific regulations under which a subordinate officer can relieve a superior officer. Do you feel that any of them apply to this?"
"Yes, sir."
His voice became deep and dangerous as he said, "Which ones?"
"All of them. And one more." Harriman leaned in close said, "You've really pissed me off. Now get off my bridge." Blackjack's fists clenched and unclenched. "This is mutiny. This is nothing less than mutiny."
"Call it what you will. I say again, however … get off my bridge, or—"
"Or what? Or you'll order security officers to commit mutiny as well as remove me?"
And Harriman shook his head. "No. I'll do it myself."
Blackjack blew his stack. "You little ingrate! Do you have any idea the number of times I've interceded for you! The times I've protected you! You owe your command to me! And this is the treatment you feel is due me?" His voice grew louder, more outraged, and the captain simply stood there, arms folded, and took it without flinching.
The admiral turned away and sat in the command chair. Icily, he said, "Even Kirk never did something like this. Not even he treated a superior officer in such a high-handed fashion. You're worse than he ever was."
"We all have to aspire to something, Admiral. Will you leave the bridge quietly?"
The admiral leaned back in the command chair and cracked his knuckles. "Nothing is getting me out of this chair. Now advise your helmswoman to obey my orders. Either that or try to remove me … if you think you've got the stones."
"Very well," said Harriman, unperturbed.
The bridge crew held its collective breath.
And Harriman, calmly, touched the comm switch on the helm console and said, "Bridge to transporter room. Lock onto the command chair and beam the occupant, into the brig."
The admiral's jaw dropped and he tried to leap from the command chair, but it was too late. The admiral, vanished in a twinkling of light and hum of molecular displacement.
No one on the bridge could quite believe it. And then, after a moment of dead silence:
"Sir," said Dane finally, "that was utterly inappropriate. In all my years of discipline and background, in all my upbringing … I have never seen a display such as that."
"Your point being, Dane?"
"The point being, I thought it was a hell of a display. Because I wasn't sanguine about firing on Excelsior."
"Neither was I. I trust you'll testify to that effect at my court-martial?"
"Absolutely, sir."
"Thank you, Dane. I knew I could count on you. Now … Z'on, raise the Excelsior, pronto. Let's find out what the hell is going on down there.