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Mar. 26th, 2007 03:01 pmFleet Admiral Lucius George Cartwright did not have an easy time of it in his first three months as Commander of Starfleet. Replacing the disgraced Fleet Admiral Morrow in the wake of the theft and destruction of Enterprise, Cartwright was left to clean that mess up, prepare for possible war with the Klingons, and oversee an accelerated program of starship refits and construction. He never doubted that he could face the challenges of the post, but he was tired constantly, rarely saw his family, and wondered if anyone in the Federation Council ever listened to him.
When the Whalesong Incident and its aftermath took control of his life, he was almost grateful. Yes, there would be pressure from all corners to coordinate relief efforts, to repair damaged ships, and to provide answers regarding the Probe, but no one would give him grief about anything else. For a week. But once the situation was, if not normal, at least stable, he had hard choices to to make about how many ships to send to the Neutral Zone (in case the Klingons got any ideas about a weakened Earth or Starfleet), which starships would get priority refits, and what to do with James T. Kirk. There were times Cartwright longed to be back on Starbase duty.
It didn't help his mood when he received a communique from the Federation President about the Kirk situation. Till this point, the President stayed out of Cartwright's path, as he had with Morrow and with Starfleet in general. But now, he was getting involved, and made it clear that it would be "in the best interests of the Federation and Starfleet" to move Kirk's trial from Starfleet authority to that of the Council itself. There was nothing Cartwright could do. Oh, he could protest to the President, or to the Commander-in-Chief. But a protest to any civilian authority carried the risk of being insubordinate, and a protest to the CinC would be ignored. (Cartwright was of the opinion that his superior was little more than a figurehead these days, content to tour the quadrant and leave him all the work.) So he kept his mouth shut.
It wasn't that Kirk didn't deserve some praise for his actions. Or that he would throw the book at a man with a record as long and glorious as James T. Kirk. But Cartwright knew how things would likely go. Instead of a discharge from the service, Kirk would probably get a slap on the wrist and maybe a demotion, and then go right on being the public face of Starfleet. Here would be the image all of the Federation saw: a rule-breaker, a renegade who undermined discipline even while seemingly teaching it, a symbol of Starfleet as adventurers and not as sober-minded, dedicated beings of both thought and action. Yes, there was a place for men like Kirk. But that place was under the command of those who would restrain him. And anticipate his behavior. (Morrow earned his forced exit in Cartwright's view by not seeing the possibilities of Kirk's actions.)
Clearly, the problem lay not with Kirk. He took advantage of the system that existed. He'd be a fool not to. No, the problem was in that civilian authority misunderstood Starfleet. Misunderstood the rules, and the roles, and the mission. And while Cartwright knew that the system required he accept the chain of command established in a democratic state centuries ago, he began to doubt the long-term capability of the Federation Council to do what was right instead of what was expedient.
For the moment, he placed his concerns aside. And had his aide send a message to Admiral Kirk and his crew, informing them that the Federation Council was exercising its right to transfer jurisdiction of a court martial from Starfleet to itself, and that a date for a hearing on the matter would be set shortly.
-----
Jim stared at the screen. He tried not to gape. But he was totally silent for three minutes before Antonia asked what was wrong.
"Nothing's wrong. Nothing at all." And for the first time in months, he allowed himself to hope.
Later, after an enjoyable dinner and a walk in the cool of the evening, Jim wondered if Cartwright was having kittens over this decision. He allowed himself a tiny smile about this before putting it out of his mind.
When the Whalesong Incident and its aftermath took control of his life, he was almost grateful. Yes, there would be pressure from all corners to coordinate relief efforts, to repair damaged ships, and to provide answers regarding the Probe, but no one would give him grief about anything else. For a week. But once the situation was, if not normal, at least stable, he had hard choices to to make about how many ships to send to the Neutral Zone (in case the Klingons got any ideas about a weakened Earth or Starfleet), which starships would get priority refits, and what to do with James T. Kirk. There were times Cartwright longed to be back on Starbase duty.
It didn't help his mood when he received a communique from the Federation President about the Kirk situation. Till this point, the President stayed out of Cartwright's path, as he had with Morrow and with Starfleet in general. But now, he was getting involved, and made it clear that it would be "in the best interests of the Federation and Starfleet" to move Kirk's trial from Starfleet authority to that of the Council itself. There was nothing Cartwright could do. Oh, he could protest to the President, or to the Commander-in-Chief. But a protest to any civilian authority carried the risk of being insubordinate, and a protest to the CinC would be ignored. (Cartwright was of the opinion that his superior was little more than a figurehead these days, content to tour the quadrant and leave him all the work.) So he kept his mouth shut.
It wasn't that Kirk didn't deserve some praise for his actions. Or that he would throw the book at a man with a record as long and glorious as James T. Kirk. But Cartwright knew how things would likely go. Instead of a discharge from the service, Kirk would probably get a slap on the wrist and maybe a demotion, and then go right on being the public face of Starfleet. Here would be the image all of the Federation saw: a rule-breaker, a renegade who undermined discipline even while seemingly teaching it, a symbol of Starfleet as adventurers and not as sober-minded, dedicated beings of both thought and action. Yes, there was a place for men like Kirk. But that place was under the command of those who would restrain him. And anticipate his behavior. (Morrow earned his forced exit in Cartwright's view by not seeing the possibilities of Kirk's actions.)
Clearly, the problem lay not with Kirk. He took advantage of the system that existed. He'd be a fool not to. No, the problem was in that civilian authority misunderstood Starfleet. Misunderstood the rules, and the roles, and the mission. And while Cartwright knew that the system required he accept the chain of command established in a democratic state centuries ago, he began to doubt the long-term capability of the Federation Council to do what was right instead of what was expedient.
For the moment, he placed his concerns aside. And had his aide send a message to Admiral Kirk and his crew, informing them that the Federation Council was exercising its right to transfer jurisdiction of a court martial from Starfleet to itself, and that a date for a hearing on the matter would be set shortly.
-----
Jim stared at the screen. He tried not to gape. But he was totally silent for three minutes before Antonia asked what was wrong.
"Nothing's wrong. Nothing at all." And for the first time in months, he allowed himself to hope.
Later, after an enjoyable dinner and a walk in the cool of the evening, Jim wondered if Cartwright was having kittens over this decision. He allowed himself a tiny smile about this before putting it out of his mind.
