“It’s an unintended consequence, certainly,” Marcum said as he looked down into his own drink. The pair was sitting in the study at the President’s new official home, so recently built that it still smelled of fresh paint and new furniture.

“Shut up, Marcum,” Wellington said disgustedly. “I didn’t bring you here to commiserate or to sing me platitudes. We need to be on the same page about this. Ambassador Cole is presumed missing since the John Arden was destroyed in the Juwel System, and we have to figure out how to best present this to the public.”

“I’m not sure I understand, sir.” Marcum frowned.

“Let me spell it out for you,” Wellington said. “Noble intentions aside, the bottom line is we’ve gotten ourselves inextricably drawn into a war because we—I—was too stupid to tell the Ushin we would not act militarily until we had independent verification of their claims. Now I’ve already gotten Starfleet personnel killed and a Terran system invaded. What the fuck was I thinking, trusting some alien without question?

“My point being is that we need the public’s support on this while we figure out a way to end hostilities as quickly as possible. Wright’s stunt of blowing up that Super Alpha they were worshipping complicates things, but we need to see if there’s still a diplomatic solution on the table.”

“Sir, they still technically attacked us first,” Marcum said. “I don’t think even the opposition-friendly press will be able to pin this on you and make it stick.”

Wellington just looked at Marcum like he was dumber than the chair he was sitting on. “I’m not talking about my political career you dolt!” He had to keep from shouting. “People are dying. Details or not, best of intentions or not, that is largely on me. I would resign today if it wouldn’t cause more harm than good, and I will step down when this is over as it is obvious my judgement is compromised. What I want from you is a strategy to make sure Fleet’s morale and focus remains where they need to be to finish this ASAP. It’s why I told you to go drag Wolfe out of mothballs and stuff him back into a command chair.”

“I think I understand what you want, sir,” Marcum said, showing no indication he took offense at being called an idiot by his boss.

“Make sure you do,” Wellington said, reaching for the ornate crystal decanter.

****