"If I were in your shoes, sir, I would probably ask for my retirement papers effective immediately. However, that is not what I would like you to do, sir. My hope is that you will allow me to continue to serve in the capacity that I do now. I would hope that you would consider what has been accomplished thus far under my command of Starfleet, and what is in progress. I would also hope that the fact that I am coming to you about this would count in my favor. Another aspect to weigh, sir, are the procautions that have been taken thus far- the evaluation by a Vulcan healer, the physical evaluations by Dr. Brennan, and the behavior checks with two officers that know me better than anyone else in the fleet. I intend on breaking this bond when possible, that is when Ambassador Celana D'amondra returns to Spacedock." he answered leaving his fate to the whim of the President.
"What a mess," the president whispered under his breath. He finally retook his seat. "There's no good decision for me here, Admiral. I trust you, I feel you're the man for this job, but if the Venasians are messing with your mind, then I've essentially got a Trojan Horse right here in my own cabinet." He shook his head and looked to Matt. "Best guess, Doctor: Is he thinking for himself." "Best guess," Matt qualifed. "Yes." The president nodded. "You stay, Admiral. But," he said quickly, "you do *nothing* in a vaccuum. Any command level decisions - especially those involving large reassignments of materiel or personnel, have to be signed off on by your second in comand any myself. Quietly, of course. But on this, I will not negotiate. I will trust you, but you help me trust you."
