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Christening
Aug. 6th, 2007 10:34 amHe hated this. Hated being on display for the entire Federation to see. Hated having to make a speech (which was of course vetted by the Protocol Office). Hated the speeches before his and after. Hated ceremonies in general. He hated the entire christening ceremony. The only good thing about it was that after it was over, the Enterprise would be leaving Earth at last.
If only they were sending him somewhere new. But the problem with telling Starfleet that your ship is still not entirely up to snuff is that someone might decide you shouldn’t be chasing supernovae and temporal anomalies and Klingon intruders. Or that someone who really thinks you still should be behind a desk at a starbase like a proper former legend will make sure that you don’t get to boldly go anywhere interesting.
So armed with the rationale that “you told us yourself that things are in need of some work,” some admiral that Jim had never heard of – how was that even possible?– arrived on the bridge of the Enterprise a week before the ceremony and told him about the “grand tour.” The ship would be sent to make state visits to two worlds that had as of yet refused Federation membership, Betazed and Bajor, and then a stop at Vulcan on the way home. It was true that Jim had never been to either of these worlds, and that Bajor’s location on the edge of the Alpha Quadrant made for a good test of the warp engines. But it felt like another waste of Jim’s skills.
“Admiral, with all due respect, it’s one thing to send a green captain on a goodwill tour, and quite another to use a veteran crew this way.”
“A veteran crew that is currently regarded as the most famous and skilled in the fleet. They know your name on Betazed. They know your name on Bajor, and that’s unusual, given how insular that society is.”
“You’re having me show the flag. This isn’t the 18th century.”
“Captain, you know better than to accuse the Federation of that. We don’t ‘show the flag.’ And I would have thought that as a former admiral, and as a veteran of two five-year missions, you would appreciate the need to balance exploration and diplomacy.”
Jim held his tongue and his temper, and did his duty after the admiral left. He assigned his anthropology team to prepare full reports about the two worlds, told Scotty and Sulu to prepare the ship for the voyage, encouraging them to find a scenic route that would still keep them close to starbases in case the engines gave way. (Scotty naturally took offense at this idea and promised that the engines would do just fine.) He made the calls to the Diplomatic Corps and learned to his surprise that for once he wouldn’t have to ferry any envoys, as the ambassadors to both worlds were still on duty (and awaiting the visit). And he didn’t complain more than once, to Bones. It wouldn’t do for the captain of the flagship of the fleet to be seen as anything but enthusiastic.
Which didn’t mean he was happy to be going. Or that he was really paying much attention to the ceremony. He didn’t care that cameras would possibly show him drifting during the longer and duller speeches. (Whose idea was it to let Admiral Turgeon speak? That man couldn’t order breakfast in less than ten minutes?) He didn’t care that over 3,000 news outlets had requested credentials (or that thankfully, only 100 were chosen, at random). He did care that friends and colleagues made the trip to the spacedock, and he would try to greet as many of them as possible after the ceremony. But he knew he would have one foot out the airlock the whole time.
And so he sat there, his speech over. He counted down the minutes till the champagne would be catapulted through the vacuum towards the side of his ship. And he wondered if somehow he could find something on this voyage that was more than mere words.
All the while the galaxy watched.
At Jupiter Station, where Carol Marcus had been granted temporary quarters, she feel the loss of her son anew, and wondered why Kirk could get a new Enterpriseand she could not get a new David Marcus. This wasn’t a thought she liked, but it refused to go away.
On Qo’noS, Chancellor Gorkin sat in his private chambers and took the measure of the Klingon Empire’s blood enemy. He felt a profound respect for a man who had saved his world, faced his responsibilities, and found a way to serve his people anew. There was honor to James Kirk, and courage. Gorkin was sure that Kirk would either lead Starfleet into a new war with the Empire, the Organians be damned, or that Kirk would be the one to bring peace. Gorkin naturally kept this thoughts to himself.
In the storm-ravaged city of Brisbane, where Antonia’s small job overseeing reconstruction of the college campus had led to a commission as the city’s chief architect, she sat in a small, cluttered apartment and watched the entire ceremony. She was filled with pride. If Jim couldn’t be hers, she really didn’t mind sharing him with the galaxy after all. And to some degree, she truly liked that she could say that he WAS here for three years. “I must be something if I could keep a man like him grounded,” she thought.
Among the dignitaries at the ceremony was Ambassador Sarek. He had attended 37 christenings in his career, and still fond the human obsession with both naming things and with ceremony fascinating. That his son would once again be on a ship didn’t matter much to him, though he would wish Spock well later on.
On ch’Rihan, a row of analysts recorded the ceremony as well as data from listening devices and operatives in attendance. The director of the Tal Shiar felt that there was much to be learned from such gatherings, and expected a full report on her desk in two days.
Much of Earth didn’t watch the show. A third of the population was asleep, of course. There was much work to be done still in the wake of the Whalesong Incident. And sometimes, some simply wished to work. At a vineyard in France, a man named Gaston Picard tended to his grapes and ignored the news of spaceships and explorers, as his father and grandfather has, as he was sure his sons and grandsons would.
In San Francisco, Captain Styles didn’t watch, either. It peeved him no end that James Kirk, the man who had cost him Excelsior, had a command again. That the man who stole and destroyed the last Enterprise was in the chair and he was at a desk. Oh, his friends throughout the fleet sympathized. They weren’t making Kirk’s life easy at all. But that wouldn’t be enough for Styles. He was sure that Kirk would cross the line again. And this time, he’d be there for the court maritial.
On the stage, along with the senior crew of the new ship and most of the upper echelons of Starfleet, Admiral Cartwright sat. He spoke briefly. He would congratulate Kirk, smile for the cameras, enjoy the day, meet with the President. And later, he would return to his offices and his important duties and plan for the future. A future that no one else at that self-important waste of time ceremony could guess.
Far out in space, signals bounced through subspace. In a few decades, the day’s proceedings would be noted by the Borg, and added to their store of knowledge. But not yet.
And in Riverside, Iowa, the townsfolk rejoiced. Their favorite son was back where he belonged. Not among them, but among the stars. The mayor declared the day a local holiday, and that night there would be fireworks.
If only they were sending him somewhere new. But the problem with telling Starfleet that your ship is still not entirely up to snuff is that someone might decide you shouldn’t be chasing supernovae and temporal anomalies and Klingon intruders. Or that someone who really thinks you still should be behind a desk at a starbase like a proper former legend will make sure that you don’t get to boldly go anywhere interesting.
So armed with the rationale that “you told us yourself that things are in need of some work,” some admiral that Jim had never heard of – how was that even possible?– arrived on the bridge of the Enterprise a week before the ceremony and told him about the “grand tour.” The ship would be sent to make state visits to two worlds that had as of yet refused Federation membership, Betazed and Bajor, and then a stop at Vulcan on the way home. It was true that Jim had never been to either of these worlds, and that Bajor’s location on the edge of the Alpha Quadrant made for a good test of the warp engines. But it felt like another waste of Jim’s skills.
“Admiral, with all due respect, it’s one thing to send a green captain on a goodwill tour, and quite another to use a veteran crew this way.”
“A veteran crew that is currently regarded as the most famous and skilled in the fleet. They know your name on Betazed. They know your name on Bajor, and that’s unusual, given how insular that society is.”
“You’re having me show the flag. This isn’t the 18th century.”
“Captain, you know better than to accuse the Federation of that. We don’t ‘show the flag.’ And I would have thought that as a former admiral, and as a veteran of two five-year missions, you would appreciate the need to balance exploration and diplomacy.”
Jim held his tongue and his temper, and did his duty after the admiral left. He assigned his anthropology team to prepare full reports about the two worlds, told Scotty and Sulu to prepare the ship for the voyage, encouraging them to find a scenic route that would still keep them close to starbases in case the engines gave way. (Scotty naturally took offense at this idea and promised that the engines would do just fine.) He made the calls to the Diplomatic Corps and learned to his surprise that for once he wouldn’t have to ferry any envoys, as the ambassadors to both worlds were still on duty (and awaiting the visit). And he didn’t complain more than once, to Bones. It wouldn’t do for the captain of the flagship of the fleet to be seen as anything but enthusiastic.
Which didn’t mean he was happy to be going. Or that he was really paying much attention to the ceremony. He didn’t care that cameras would possibly show him drifting during the longer and duller speeches. (Whose idea was it to let Admiral Turgeon speak? That man couldn’t order breakfast in less than ten minutes?) He didn’t care that over 3,000 news outlets had requested credentials (or that thankfully, only 100 were chosen, at random). He did care that friends and colleagues made the trip to the spacedock, and he would try to greet as many of them as possible after the ceremony. But he knew he would have one foot out the airlock the whole time.
And so he sat there, his speech over. He counted down the minutes till the champagne would be catapulted through the vacuum towards the side of his ship. And he wondered if somehow he could find something on this voyage that was more than mere words.
All the while the galaxy watched.
At Jupiter Station, where Carol Marcus had been granted temporary quarters, she feel the loss of her son anew, and wondered why Kirk could get a new Enterpriseand she could not get a new David Marcus. This wasn’t a thought she liked, but it refused to go away.
On Qo’noS, Chancellor Gorkin sat in his private chambers and took the measure of the Klingon Empire’s blood enemy. He felt a profound respect for a man who had saved his world, faced his responsibilities, and found a way to serve his people anew. There was honor to James Kirk, and courage. Gorkin was sure that Kirk would either lead Starfleet into a new war with the Empire, the Organians be damned, or that Kirk would be the one to bring peace. Gorkin naturally kept this thoughts to himself.
In the storm-ravaged city of Brisbane, where Antonia’s small job overseeing reconstruction of the college campus had led to a commission as the city’s chief architect, she sat in a small, cluttered apartment and watched the entire ceremony. She was filled with pride. If Jim couldn’t be hers, she really didn’t mind sharing him with the galaxy after all. And to some degree, she truly liked that she could say that he WAS here for three years. “I must be something if I could keep a man like him grounded,” she thought.
Among the dignitaries at the ceremony was Ambassador Sarek. He had attended 37 christenings in his career, and still fond the human obsession with both naming things and with ceremony fascinating. That his son would once again be on a ship didn’t matter much to him, though he would wish Spock well later on.
On ch’Rihan, a row of analysts recorded the ceremony as well as data from listening devices and operatives in attendance. The director of the Tal Shiar felt that there was much to be learned from such gatherings, and expected a full report on her desk in two days.
Much of Earth didn’t watch the show. A third of the population was asleep, of course. There was much work to be done still in the wake of the Whalesong Incident. And sometimes, some simply wished to work. At a vineyard in France, a man named Gaston Picard tended to his grapes and ignored the news of spaceships and explorers, as his father and grandfather has, as he was sure his sons and grandsons would.
In San Francisco, Captain Styles didn’t watch, either. It peeved him no end that James Kirk, the man who had cost him Excelsior, had a command again. That the man who stole and destroyed the last Enterprise was in the chair and he was at a desk. Oh, his friends throughout the fleet sympathized. They weren’t making Kirk’s life easy at all. But that wouldn’t be enough for Styles. He was sure that Kirk would cross the line again. And this time, he’d be there for the court maritial.
On the stage, along with the senior crew of the new ship and most of the upper echelons of Starfleet, Admiral Cartwright sat. He spoke briefly. He would congratulate Kirk, smile for the cameras, enjoy the day, meet with the President. And later, he would return to his offices and his important duties and plan for the future. A future that no one else at that self-important waste of time ceremony could guess.
Far out in space, signals bounced through subspace. In a few decades, the day’s proceedings would be noted by the Borg, and added to their store of knowledge. But not yet.
And in Riverside, Iowa, the townsfolk rejoiced. Their favorite son was back where he belonged. Not among them, but among the stars. The mayor declared the day a local holiday, and that night there would be fireworks.
