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LIEUTENANT KEEGAN Khaliban
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STARDATE 55222.97: Second Day of The Trial "Thank you, Lieutenant Keegan," Commander Ponomarev said. "The prosecution may challenge the account," Admiral Chauhan said. "The prosecution is satisfied with Mister Keegan's description of how he arrived on Voyager. We have depositions from the crewmembers mentioned that support his statements." "So noted," the admiral said. "We will hear opening arguments." Philip Keegan stood and walked to the center of the room. "Three hundred years ago, I stood at the threshold of one of the darkest times in human history. A war, caused by my own people, devastated the planet. That devastation struck the world with a despair that lasted until Zephram Cochrane led mankind into space some seventy years later. The legacy of my superior race is sorrow and pain. I can understand, more than anyone in this room, why we are hated and feared. I cannot throw myself before the mercy of this court. I cannot beg your forgiveness, but I can offer my remorse. I can offer my penance. I committed no crime at the level of Khan, but I am all that is left to bear his guilt. I could be imprisoned or abandoned on a planet, and that may satisfy some, but I have chosen redemption. I will not be a victim of my own perfection. I will surrender my life and my destiny to the people of the Federation and to Starfleet. I ask to serve where Khan would demand to lead. My crimes, all of them, were committed to give me the chance to undo some of Khan's transgressions. I offer my guilt for a greater good, and I offer my service to Starfleet." When Keegan sat down, the prosecutor stood. Commander Simone Brown was a tall, attractive woman of about forty. She smiled before she spoke. "Redemption and remorse are wonderful goals, but those goals are what prison is for. No, Philip Keegan did not commit the acts attributed to Khan Noonian Singh. No, he was not a part of the Eugenics War. No, he did not harm the people of the Enterprise or the Reliant or Regula One. And he is not charged with those offenses. He is charged with lying to his superior officers on multiple occasions for personal gain. He is charged with mutiny in taking control of the starship Voyager, a crime if his time in control of Voyager were two years or only two hours. He is charged with insubordination and he is charged with violating a developing sentient, the ship's doctor, for his own purposes. And, he committed these acts out of arrogance. He knew if he were exposed, he would be removed from his position. He decided to supersede the regulations of Starfleet, an organization he promises to serve, and he placed his own ideals above the clear dictates of the founders of Federation law. The Federation and Starfleet were built upon the ideal that the greater good is the few suffering for the many. No one who places himself above that ideal should be a Starfleet officer." Commander Brown returned to her seat. "Thank you," the Vulcan admiral said. "We will have a short recess while we consider your statements, then the defense may call its first witness." Keegan stood. "With all due respect, Admiral, my witness list is incomplete. Four of my key witnesses have yet to return to Earth or make sub-space contact." "Which witnesses are those?" Admiral T'Lara asked. "Commander Data, Commander Julian Bashir, Captain Montgomery Scott and Ambassador Spock. In particular, records show Doctor Bashir was sent on a mission to the Gamma Quadrant the day after I filed my formal request for a hearing. He has not yet returned." Admiral Chauhan scowled at the prosecutor. "I will see to it personally that Doctor Bashir return. You understand, however, that recalling Ambassador Spock will be much more difficult. I hope he is not vital to your case." "I hope that as well," Keegan said. "Do you have other witnesses prepared?" Admiral Chauhan asked. "Yes, sir, I do." "Then we will hear from them. This court is in recess for fifteen minutes." In the holding cell, Commander Ponomarev watched her client read from a PADD. He read whole pages at a time, tapping the advance button like a metronome. She leaned against a wall well away from him. "I take it that wasn't it," she said. He stopped but did not look up. "No," he replied. "Why not use it? Tell them and be done with it. You said it would exonerate you." "No," he said. "I never said that. It might convince them to keep me around." "Why waste the time for the trial? Why give the prosecution that chance?" He looked at her. "I thought you would know that." "I know what you told Simone," she said. "But there's always more with you." "Did I ever tell you about my grandfather?" "You mentioned him a few times." "He was the most amazing man I ever knew." Phil sighed. "He taught me a difficult lesson once. I want to prove I can learn from it." He sighed again, more painfully this time. "I want to know I can do this without his help." "That doesn't make any sense," Anzhelika said. "I know. I'm sorry." He smiled at her. He seemed so human when he did that. A guard opened the door. "We are ready for you," he said. "The game's afoot," Anzhelika said. He client smiled at her again and followed her out the door. * * * STARDATE 54691.55: Six Months Before The Trial "Hello, Mister Eugenic," Neelix said, holding out a plate of food. "Don't call me that," Keegan replied. "I call Mister Tuvok 'Mister Vulcan'," he said. Keegan looked at the guards. "There's a difference. You need to ask someone about it." Neelix put the plate down on Keegan's cot. "I'll do that," he said. "That's enough, Neelix," one of the guards said. "Yes, Ma'am. Lieutenant, I'll see you at lunch." Phil finished the meal thinking Neelix should stop trying to cheer him up by experimenting with the food. He set the plate down, expecting a long day of waiting, when Captain Janeway walked in. "Stand outside," she told the guards. "You're getting what you want," she said when they were gone. He didn't react. She continued, "Starfleet will not conduct a trial with the prosecutor, the defense and the accused sixty thousand lightyears from the court. You will be granted a temporary reprieve. Upon our return to the Alpha Quadrant, the charges will be re-filed. Until then, you will retain your current rank of lieutenant, junior grade." "Thank you, Captain." "Do you really think you fooled anyone?" she asked. "I didn't need to fool them, so long as I got that result." "So you get to wear that uniform for how long? Fifty years if things go poorly. You could retire with honor." He shrugged. "I won't retire in fifty years." "And why is that?" "I have a three hundred year lifespan." "What?" she said. "Why?" "Something my grandfather wanted. The genetic engineers implemented life extension in the eighth batch. One hundred and fifty years for them, and two hundred for the ninth." She shook her head. "Why didn't they build an eleventh batch?" "They planned on it. They were going to wait ten years from the end of my batch to see how the first group did." "What happened?" she asked. His eyes drifted off. "Something bad," he said. "Well," she said, "I'm afraid you'll have to stay in the brig a little longer. The crew is not happy with you, or some of the information you provided." Fifty-eight papers credited to a respected scientist of the late twenty-first century were proven to be identical in style to the Unclaimed Thesis and the three "Anonymous Einsteins" Keegan took for his own. Two of the Einstein papers were published before the scientist was born. "I read his autobiography when I was at the Academy," she told him. "I remember thinking his writing style was so different in his papers. I thought it was a part of genius, the mind shifting from one mode to another like a split personality." She sighed. "How many others are you going to reveal?" "All of them. My people deserve recognition for their benefits to mankind as much for their crimes against them. I would provide this information whatever the outcome of the trial. It is not a threat to secure a beneficial verdict." She examined the ground for inspiration. "Protocol whitewash; it did its job, I'll say that. We can't find any of your commands left in the computer. Why did you install those commands anyway? When did you think it would be necessary for a good Starfleet officer to gain complete control of the ship?" "A few years ago," he said, "After a bad experience with a girlfriend." "Are you joking?" "No, oddly enough. I knew I would be discovered at some point. I had to show you I wasn't Khan. I think it worked. You didn't shoot me, after all." "You didn't give me the chance." He laughed. "I guess we did things differently in my day than in yours. A show of power is not as well received now." "No," she said, "But we still understand violence. Thirty people have asked the Doctor to scan their DNA to make sure they are free of contamination. Many others fear to see you expose a beloved ancestor. They want you to shut up, and they are being very vocal about it." "'The Federation has a responsibility to the truth.' I am done with lying and silence," he said. "'Confession is good for the soul?'" she asked. "Yes," he said, smiling. "I need as much good in my soul as I can get. The people of the Federation and the families of those thieves will adapt. My people will be as hated as they are now, but they will be hated with a greater accuracy." Kathryn Janeway leaned against the door frame of the cell and flicked the defensive shield. Her finger numbed from the contact. "Could you get us home?" she asked. "They're demanding that too, aren't they? No," he said. "It's much easier hiding in the Alpha Quadrant. If I could get us home, I would have done so by now." "The fact that this helps you–" "Means nothing," he replied. "I avail myself of my environment, much as you do." "Speaking of which, I am going to double your guard: two to watch you and two to protect you. I am afraid you will be in this cell until the crew forgives you." "You could tell them I'm a better cook than Neelix." She laughed. "For god's sake, Phil, I'm a better cook than Neelix." She went to the door and ordered the guards to return to their post. Walking away, she thought, Finally got the last word in. Some hours later, Neelix returned with lunch. He held the tray out with shaking hands and wouldn't put it down until Keegan walked to the opposite side of the cell. "No desert, Neelix?" Phil asked. Neelix jumped back. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'll... I'll... I mean–" "I was kidding, Neelix. I'm on a diet, remember?" "Yes, Mist– Lieutenant. Enjoy the meal." He walked out quickly. "Ahh," Keegan said to the guards, "Deep fried something. My favorite." * * * STARDATE 48404.9: One Month after Voyager's Arrival in the Delta Quadrant "No, Phil, stay," Crewman Denise Reed said. "It was just getting interesting." "We're replacing eight damaged struts tomorrow," Crewman Keegan replied. "I want to be ready for it." Denise looked to the other people at the table for help. Three faces returned sympathy to her. "You probably had it memorized a week ago. Do you know how hard it is to find someone who's actually read Renaissance poetry that wasn't a Shakespearean sonnet? At least talk to me about Mary Wroth. Just for a minute? Please?" "I'm very sorry, Denise, but I have a lot of reading to do. You don't want me to drop a strut on your head do you?" He shrugged innocently and walked out. "I'd like to drop a strut on his damn head." She turned to the others. "I was being obvious, wasn't I?" "I've never seen you more obvious," one of them said. "Thank you. What is wrong with him?" "I think he's insane," another one, Ensign Suder, said. "And thank you." "No, I think he's genuinely insane. You'll excuse me, please." The Betazoid stood and followed Keegan. He ran to catch up and called out when he saw Phil. "Ensign Suder, how may I help you?" "Crewman, you have a very strange way of thinking," Suder began. "Is this about Denise?" "No. You have an almost Vulcan mind. You think about a tremendous amount of material simultaneously. It's very detailed, very complicated. It's a mind I envy. But, there have been flashes I've noticed a few times. Do you believe you're a eugenic?" "What?" Suder stepped back. "Wow. I've never found a mental shield that strong in a human before. Where did you learn how to do that?" "I had an unusual upbringing," Phil said carefully. "If you keep something like that up too long, you'll give yourself a headache," Suder said. Phil nodded. "Yes, I'll keep that in mind." "About the eugenics..." Phil answered slowly. "I thought, if I were a eugenic, I could get us home. I guess my fantasy got a little strong." "Yes," Suder said, "I thought it was something like that. Everyone is having trouble dealing with the situation. I know I've had my problems, but we don't need one of those psychotics to get us home. We'll get there on our own. The holodeck can run a good psych program for you. Just talk it out." "Thank you, sir. I will do that. Excuse me please." Phil's long legs carried him to his room at almost a run. Too excited to sit, he called out to the computer while pacing between the screen and the bathroom door. "Computer, I need any available background material on Ensign Lon Suder." He stopped long enough to read. "What the hell is a Betazoid?" He read again. "Are you shitting me? Those nutcases were right? Holy fuck." He continued to pace. "Computer, are there any plans for telepathic shields in the database?" "Nineteen such devices are on record." "Display them." Swallowing a page at a time, he considered and discarded most of the designs. Finally, he tapped the screen, highlighting one device in particular. "I need complete instructions on how to implant this shield," he said. "Warning, all telepathic shield designs are currently experimental. Use of a telepathic shield is not recommended by Starfleet." "Duly noted. Display the requested information." Six hours later, three versions of Philip Keegan sat in a holodeck, two perpendicular to each other as if at the corners of a square. As the living Keegan in the center moved, the holographic Keegans in front of him and to his right mimicked his actions. He lifted a laser scalpel and cut the skin above the ear of the hologram in front of him and felt the warmth and pressure of the cut above his own ear. He peeled back a flap of skin, an odd sensation if there was one, and inserted a universal translator. He planned to implant a translator soon anyway. He attached the device to his skull, fusing it in place with a skeletal regenerator. A thin wire slid out of the translator and dug through his soft tissue until it contacted his auditory nerve. It eased into place, and he heard a crackle. His tricorder indicated the translator was functional. He inserted a small tube into an opening in the translator. Nanobots crawled through the tube and out a series of holes at the base of the device. When a nanobot encountered his skull, it shoved its legs into the bone and locked itself into place. A new nanobot would crawl over the old, lock itself into place, and connect itself, nose to tail, with the first bot. Millions of nanobots, in twenty different streams, moved out over his skull, split into new streams, and continued. Soon, a fine web of nanobots covered his skull. He removed the tube and replaced it with an optional power upgrade. It would provide energy to the added circuitry in the translator. When the power source slid into place, Phil felt first a disorientation, then nausea, then mild pain, a headache, more nausea, and finally a fuzziness he knew would never go away. He would adapt to it. He picked up a tissue regenerator and sealed the seam in his scalp. "Computer," he said, "End program. Delete it from memory." He picked up his supplies and walk out. * * * STARDATE 48538.35: Three Months after Voyager's Arrival in the Delta Quadrant "Why, Phil?" Denise said. "I think I can do a better job in security." She was pouting. "I like working with you, Phil. I don't want to see you go." "It's not like I'm transferring to another ship," he said softly, keeping it light. "How did Retut react?" "He offered me deck nine." "Oh," she said. "I don't want you to be my supervisor." She leaned close. "I like to be on top." "I'm not surprised. You'll excuse me. I need to report to Tuvok." He heard, "Damn it," as he walked away. The interview with Tuvok took more than an hour. The Vulcan asked him questions about his background, his combat experience and his training. "Why are your records incomplete?" Tuvok asked. "I was a late addition. My records were never transferred." "Yes, I have found that problem with some other crewmembers. I am not pleased to take an individual into security on such limited information, but I am understaffed in a hostile environment. You understand, you will be watched more closely because of this?" "Yes, sir." "You said you have studied martial arts. Who taught you?" "My parents. They were tournament martial artists." "Which tournaments?" Phil listed some. He had prepared an elaborate background, more material than he thought he'd need. He was almost out of information. The trick, he found, was describing his training without providing a source or location. He tried to keep the outright lies to a minimum. And, so far, Tuvok had not asked him if he were Federation or Maquis. Keegan knew from other crewmembers that Tuvok did not know all the Maquis. Chakotay kept many of his people isolated from each other, a protection against infiltrators. The Maquis had arrived in the Delta Quadrant in two ships. Tuvok was not familiar with most of the Maquis from the second ship. "Did they place well?" "No. They never made it past the second or third round. They were excellent teachers, though." "How did you enter into your unusual occupation?" the Vulcan asked, presumably meaning the Maquis. "Through an absurd series of accidents and coincidence. I was happily a university student until fate grabbed me." Tuvok watched him silently. He never used a PADD during the interview and never read from his terminal. "Do you fear I will judge you for what you have done?" he said. "No, I am more than enough judge for what I have done. I don't need any help." "How do you judge yourself here?" Phil looked around the room as if watching the whole ship. "Voyager is a chance for redemption." "I understand," Tuvok said. "One more thing. I can normally detect a human at this distance. Are you using a telepathic shield?" the Vulcan asked. "Yes, sir," Phil said without hesitation. "Why?" "There are parts of my life I would like to forget. I don't want anyone accidentally reminding me of them." "That does not seem to be sufficient justification, considering the time and effort of the implantation and the mental training required to make it effective." Phil sighed. "The implantation took very little time, and my parents provided me with mental discipline as part of their training. Adapting that training to the telepathic shield was not difficult." Tuvok nodded to Phil. "Very well," he said. "If this personal training of yours does not interfere with your duties, I will not pursue the issue. Perhaps I will find some tactical use for it." He finally picked up a PADD and read from it. "I am in the second week of training a new team. Do you believe you can catch up to them?" "Yes, sir." "Good. Tomorrow, you will wear your workout uniform and go to holodeck three at oh-five-hundred." "Yes, sir." "Dismissed." * * * STARDATE 55223.05: Second Day of The Trial "How would you rate my performance, Commander Tuvok?" Keegan said. He stood in the middle of the room, facing the witness chair. "My evaluations of you ranged from above average to excellent," Tuvok replied. "Did I ever give you a reason to doubt my loyalty?" "No." "Did the presence of my telepathic shield cause you any concern?" Tuvok considered the question. "I remained curious about your decision to use the shield, but I did not feel it merited investigation." "How long did you consider me for field promotion?" "Three months," Tuvok answered. "Did you ever doubt your decision?" "Vulcans do not doubt. We review all factors logically." Keegan smiled. "What did your logic tell you?" "Your leadership skills were undeveloped, but your intellect and adaptability compensated. You exhibited superior physical and mental training, and you showed a strength of will often praised by other humans." "Where did this lead you?" "That you would make an acceptable officer, by human standards." Keegan turned to a display screen. "Computer, show defense exhibit four." Text appeared on the screen. "Commander Tuvok, would you identify that text for us?" "Those are the results of the Academy tests I administered prior to recommending you for field promotion." "Would you identify the highlighted area?" "Those are the results of the psychological exam." "Describe them, please." "The test indicated an unusual, possibly traumatic childhood. You showed a measure of arrogance and instability resulting from that upbringing and from your own perceived superiority. On occasion, you manifested a paranoid delusion." "What delusion was that?" "That the entire crew of Voyager was out to get you." Keegan smiled again. "Then why did you suggest me for promotion?" "Many members of the crew developed emotional difficulties during this time period. I found that you were able to deal with these difficulties more effectively than most of the other humans. I also found that you responded well to a challenge. I believed the increased responsibility would ultimately help you with these emotional problems." "In your opinion, do you believe you were correct? Has my rank and responsibility improved my emotional stability?" "For a human, yes." Keegan turned toward the admirals, and then the prosecutor, his face stoic. "Computer, screen off," he said. "Mister Tuvok, are you stronger than me?" "No," the Vulcan said, "Your mass affords you a benefit." Keegan began to pace slowly. "Are you faster than me?" "Yes." "And what about endurance?" "Comparable," Tuvok said. "Are you smarter than me?" "Overall intellect, no, but I have superior tactical knowledge." "Yes," Keegan said, "You do. Could you take me in a fight?" "Yes," Tuvok replied. "But I defeated you in the shuttle bay." "You had superior tactical information and the element of surprise." "Did losing to me bother you?" "That is an emotion," Tuvok said. "Do you fear me? Or, whatever Vulcans call it." "No." "Do you believe I pose a threat to the Federation?" "That would depend on the type of threat." "What would you have done," Keegan continued, "If I had told you what I was at that first interview?" "Informed the captain and reprimanded you for placing false information in the computer." "Thank you, Mister Tuvok," Keegan said. "No further questions." "Mister Tuvok," Commander Brown said, "Philip Keegan fooled you for seven years. How was that accomplished?" "Voyager was in a constant state of alertness. We were under attack from many alien species. I needed to trust the crew around me and to rely on them in order to insure Voyager's survival. I did not have the luxury to consider an inside threat, and we had no evidence that the Caretaker had acquired anyone other than Voyager and the Maquis." The commander tapped her fingers. "And, did you change your policy when Seska was exposed?" "Yes," Tuvok said. "I reviewed the records of all Maquis personnel." "And how did Mister Keegan's limited background appear to you?" "He was not listed as Maquis. I considered it an error. In the end, I decided his incomplete records indicated he was not an infiltrator. Such an agent, like myself, would have a plausible history. However, I decided to review his record aboard Voyager and extend his probationary period." "Did you tell him this?" Brown asked. "Yes. He accepted my decision. He served with distinction during the probation, risking his own life three times in the course of his duties. At the end of the allotted period, I removed him from probation." "None of this caused you any concern?" Tuvok's expression drifted from annoyance to slightly more annoyance. "All of this caused me concern, Commander. However, I needed more than irritation or suspicion to pursue Mister Keegan's inconsistencies. My duty was to protect Voyager and her crew. As a security officer, Mister Keegan defended with the same dedication I expected from any other Starfleet officer. I knew he possessed an imperfect past, as did many crewmembers aboard Voyager. Captain Janeway specifically ordered me to ignore those crimes. She knew we could not create a unified crew if we began to prosecute one third of the people on board. I believed Mister Keegan was a part of that group, that he had committed a crime in the Alpha Quadrant that the Federation deemed unforgivable, but, when the subject was discussed, he claimed he sought redemption. I chose to judge him on his actions in the Delta Quadrant and not on his assumed former indiscretions. The Maquis were renegades and terrorists, but they did their jobs with passion and skill. They also responded well to loyalty and respect. I chose this path with Mister Keegan and found my decision rewarded. I knew he hid a crime, but, by my own logic and my captain's orders, I ignored it. In return, Voyager gained a capable officer. I considered the results satisfactory." "Would you serve with him again?" she asked, her voice calm. "I must reevaluate Mister Keegan as an officer," he said, looking at Phil. "However, I have not ruled out the possibility." "And when you reevaluated him for the computer core, what then? Did his lack of a history disturb you?" "No, Commander, it did not. By then, I felt I knew Mister Keegan. As I said, I believed he had proven himself to me." "And now, do you regret your decision?" Tuvok looked again at Phil. "No. During his time as Head of the Computer Core, he served Voyager well." Commander Brown sat back in her chair and crossed her fingers. "Thank you, Mister Tuvok. I have no further questions." "Mister Keegan, you may call your next witness," Admiral T'Lara said.* * * Page 1 Page 3
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