[Meeting with Starfleet]
This was everything Kirk didn't want to do, but knew he had to. He waited until nearly everyone was off the ship, save some leftovers like the security in the brig, some of medical... and himself. He went into his office and sat down, trying to settle himself enough to do this. What the hell am I even going to say about all of this? He picked up the padd that held the relayed message, given to him within seconds of docking at Risa.
With a seriously sinking heart, he pulled up the relays back to Earth, carefully syncing up his screen with those of the board for Starfleet. Last thing he wanted to do while everyone, including Bones, was off enjoying themselves. The price of being Captain, but he was doing it willingly. "...Gentlemen," He said, leaning forward on his elbows as he looked over the half-crescent of mostly older men sitting before him. He knew their faces and suddenly hated the empty chair where Christopher Pike should have been sitting. They all sat rather stiffly, with pressed uniforms that--while lacking an abundance of decorations--still exhibited stripes to denote that they were all flag officers. An admiral, two vice admirals, two rear admirals, and one commodore looked at him with some vague disdain.
"Captain Kirk," The admiral spoke from the centre position at the table. "You have initiated this conference to report the recent events and current status of the Juxta colony."
"Admiral Everett." He greeted the man by name - never forgot a name or face. He tried to keep his face bare of emotions ("Just think of Spock. No, that'll piss me off.") as well as his tone. "There is little left of the Juxta colony. Where would you like me to begin?" Specially since you got my god damn fucking report on the situation down there!
"The preliminary conclusions you have drawn regarding the cause of the colony's destruction, if you would, Captain." Everett made a small gesture of get on with it.
"Easy. The colony was left without proper defenses or Starfleet protection, and was destroyed. It's a wasteland, with few people left alive that as my report states require rescuing. It would have been done if the distress call from the Farragut had not come through." His fingers tightened out of screen. "We were not prepared for the state of the colony when we were asked to send our chief medical officer into that hell!"
The men at the table looked unphased at his rising anger. "An unfortunate circumstance, that the colony collapsed so quickly." Everett acknowledged his grievance with a completely nonempathetic tone. "But it appears that you had enough time to rescue your doctor from the colony before the distress signal was received." The implication was infuriatingly clear: that he rescued his CMO, and no one else, wasting time and selfishly hoarding the extensive resources of the fleet's flagship.
Fingers tightened further. "We had no concept, not one, of what was occurring on that planet. We came to find him in a world of complete radio and signal silence, and the distress signal went out before the away team even hit the surface of the planet. We were attacked while searching for him, and the only contact other than the attack we had was through a tricorder signal. It also stands to note that if we hadn't reached B... McCoy in the time that we did, Starfleet would have lost the very doctor it so desperately decided to send to the colony." He kept that blank expression, as he forced himself to stay calm, refusing to budge.
"Regardless of the events that occured, you were still ordered to remain apart from the colony for at least two solar days." One of the vice admirals spoke up, sitting to Everett's left. "While you have suitable cause enough to excuse it this time, it was still a breach of regulation."
"It would have meant the loss of my CMO as much as another two days without knowledge that the colony had been destroyed." His nails were biting into his palms. "Another two days before the distress call went out that the colony couldn't accomplish themselves." He defended his actions, knowing he was right.
"This is Starfleet, Captain Kirk," The commodore, to Everett's far left, told him sternly. "Other doctors were down there, some were killed and some not. No matter what length of leash you want to keep him on, he's still a Starfleet doctor and eventually he's going to get hurt, just like every other member of your crew. You'd best start accepting that danger."
His shoulders tightened and for a moment, he saw red. "That danger was accepted the moment that I agreed to send my best doctor to a planet in such danger." He almost growled, eyes narrowed. But... it was true. Every one of his crew could, would get hurt. Including Bones. The thought of it burned cold in his chest.
More than one man leaned forward in his seat, folded his hands together on the desk, and look down his nose at Kirk. They didn't all do it at the same time, kind of delayed and mirrored similar reactions rippling through the conference table, but the disdain was more than just vague by the time the commodore spoke again. "If that were true, then you wouldn't be ranting about it to this board."
"Just because I accepted the danger, sir, doesn't mean I liked it." Kirk said back darkly.
By the time the call was over, Kirk was broken. His palms were a little more ragged and freely bleeding, his fingernails half-mooned in crimson, and his heart was heavy in his chest. Yet, though no one else would see it, he held himself together through the call. He kept himself logical, the best he could, and dealt with it. In the end, they had agreed with him.
That didn't mean that the second the meeting was over, he hit off the vidscreen and buried his head into his hands, not even caring as blood smeared on his face.
It was blood that was the wetness on his face, of course.
With a seriously sinking heart, he pulled up the relays back to Earth, carefully syncing up his screen with those of the board for Starfleet. Last thing he wanted to do while everyone, including Bones, was off enjoying themselves. The price of being Captain, but he was doing it willingly. "...Gentlemen," He said, leaning forward on his elbows as he looked over the half-crescent of mostly older men sitting before him. He knew their faces and suddenly hated the empty chair where Christopher Pike should have been sitting. They all sat rather stiffly, with pressed uniforms that--while lacking an abundance of decorations--still exhibited stripes to denote that they were all flag officers. An admiral, two vice admirals, two rear admirals, and one commodore looked at him with some vague disdain.
"Captain Kirk," The admiral spoke from the centre position at the table. "You have initiated this conference to report the recent events and current status of the Juxta colony."
"Admiral Everett." He greeted the man by name - never forgot a name or face. He tried to keep his face bare of emotions ("Just think of Spock. No, that'll piss me off.") as well as his tone. "There is little left of the Juxta colony. Where would you like me to begin?" Specially since you got my god damn fucking report on the situation down there!
"The preliminary conclusions you have drawn regarding the cause of the colony's destruction, if you would, Captain." Everett made a small gesture of get on with it.
"Easy. The colony was left without proper defenses or Starfleet protection, and was destroyed. It's a wasteland, with few people left alive that as my report states require rescuing. It would have been done if the distress call from the Farragut had not come through." His fingers tightened out of screen. "We were not prepared for the state of the colony when we were asked to send our chief medical officer into that hell!"
The men at the table looked unphased at his rising anger. "An unfortunate circumstance, that the colony collapsed so quickly." Everett acknowledged his grievance with a completely nonempathetic tone. "But it appears that you had enough time to rescue your doctor from the colony before the distress signal was received." The implication was infuriatingly clear: that he rescued his CMO, and no one else, wasting time and selfishly hoarding the extensive resources of the fleet's flagship.
Fingers tightened further. "We had no concept, not one, of what was occurring on that planet. We came to find him in a world of complete radio and signal silence, and the distress signal went out before the away team even hit the surface of the planet. We were attacked while searching for him, and the only contact other than the attack we had was through a tricorder signal. It also stands to note that if we hadn't reached B... McCoy in the time that we did, Starfleet would have lost the very doctor it so desperately decided to send to the colony." He kept that blank expression, as he forced himself to stay calm, refusing to budge.
"Regardless of the events that occured, you were still ordered to remain apart from the colony for at least two solar days." One of the vice admirals spoke up, sitting to Everett's left. "While you have suitable cause enough to excuse it this time, it was still a breach of regulation."
"It would have meant the loss of my CMO as much as another two days without knowledge that the colony had been destroyed." His nails were biting into his palms. "Another two days before the distress call went out that the colony couldn't accomplish themselves." He defended his actions, knowing he was right.
"This is Starfleet, Captain Kirk," The commodore, to Everett's far left, told him sternly. "Other doctors were down there, some were killed and some not. No matter what length of leash you want to keep him on, he's still a Starfleet doctor and eventually he's going to get hurt, just like every other member of your crew. You'd best start accepting that danger."
His shoulders tightened and for a moment, he saw red. "That danger was accepted the moment that I agreed to send my best doctor to a planet in such danger." He almost growled, eyes narrowed. But... it was true. Every one of his crew could, would get hurt. Including Bones. The thought of it burned cold in his chest.
More than one man leaned forward in his seat, folded his hands together on the desk, and look down his nose at Kirk. They didn't all do it at the same time, kind of delayed and mirrored similar reactions rippling through the conference table, but the disdain was more than just vague by the time the commodore spoke again. "If that were true, then you wouldn't be ranting about it to this board."
"Just because I accepted the danger, sir, doesn't mean I liked it." Kirk said back darkly.
By the time the call was over, Kirk was broken. His palms were a little more ragged and freely bleeding, his fingernails half-mooned in crimson, and his heart was heavy in his chest. Yet, though no one else would see it, he held himself together through the call. He kept himself logical, the best he could, and dealt with it. In the end, they had agreed with him.
That didn't mean that the second the meeting was over, he hit off the vidscreen and buried his head into his hands, not even caring as blood smeared on his face.
It was blood that was the wetness on his face, of course.