Chapter Text
They waited a day for the board of inquiry to reach a conclusion. Then two, and then three. As the fourth day broke with no news, Decker seethed with impatience. "No news is good news" was another applicable old axiom, but he had infinite other things he'd rather be doing than hanging around Starfleet Headquarters waiting for some word.
It was shortly before forenoon when the intercom in his quarters buzzed, passing along an order for him to report to the Billingsley Auditorium at 1300 hours: uniform of the day was full dress with decorations. Finally. He lost no time donning the uniform and repairing to the auditorium, but he couldn't quit mulling over in his mind why he would be summoned to one of the largest auditoriums in Starfleet HQ just to hear the board's conclusions.
Were he and his crew about to be drummed out of the service for the actions they'd taken, with scores of Starfleet personnel bearing witness to their disgrace?
A large gathering of officers of varying ranks and postings milled about the auditorium when Decker arrived, but no one he knew personally. A minute after him, Kirk and Mitchell entered. Then over the next several minutes, Brent, Skappas, LaSalle, and L'Rema - almost everyone who had been on the bridge of the Merrimack during the engagement. Only Odax, Forrester, and a couple of lesser mortals were missing, but they, too, showed up in due time along with Dr. Suslowicz.
"Any idea what's going on, Captain?" Brent asked.
Decker shook his head. "Beats hell out of me, Pete. Though the fact that we're all here after that business on Dimidium and facing an inquest for it...."
"Maybe we've just stepped into a lynch mob," Skappas said in a flippant tone. Leave it to him to try and lighten the air with gallows humor.
L'Rema looked up from licking her forearm. "I'm just grateful there's a private sandbox down the hall," she murmured. "If this gives me a bad enough case of the zoomies...."
"Just don't have a hairball on the podium, willya?" Decker told her. He glanced toward the stage at the front of the auditorium as a Starfleet master-at-arms marched in from one side.
"Attention on the deck!" he roared. The scores of officers in the auditorium snapped to, directing their undivided attention at the stage. The only sound was the splash of water from the decorative fountain behind the stage, as a veritable procession of top Starfleet brass marched into view, led by a healthily built, very recognizable man with well-kempt white hair.
"My God, that's Admiral Komack!" LaSalle whispered.
"Maybe George is right," Mitchell muttered to Kirk. "We are about to be either hanged or shot."
"Relax, you guys," Decker growled. "We're not dead yet."
Commodore Brienzio was one of the last officers in the procession, which amounted to three admirals, two commodores, and two fleet captains. The master at arms received a legipad from one of the fleet captains, stepped up to the podium, and bellowed: "The following officers will stand front and center. Captain Matthew Decker; Commander James Kirk; Lieutenants Gary Mitchell, Hedrick LaSalle, Peter Brent; Lieutenants J.G. George Skappas and L'Rema; and Dr. Casimer Suslowicz."
Without a word, Decker's officers fell into a column behind him. He led the way up to the stage, where they formed a shoulder-to-shoulder line alongside him. Trepidation was heavy. They had all been present on the Merrimack during the Dimidium crisis and could not fathom any other reason why they'd all been summoned at once.
Admiral Komack stepped to the podium and beckoned for Brienzio to join him, facing Decker and his people. "Captain Decker, officers of the Merrimack," he began. "I thought you would be interested to know...." He paused for dramatic effect. "That the board of inquiry into your conduct in the Dimidium crisis has been dissolved. The emissaries you ferried from Delta Pavonis to Earth would like to express their strong gratitude for your intercession in this affair. Ambassador Aranias wishes you to be specially commended for your valor and courage in shielding his people from annihilation. Coming from the newest member of the Federation, this is not an inconsequential matter. You will all receive Starfleet's highest accolades, and personal citations to follow." He left a smiling Brienzio standing on the podium with the legipad, and walked over to stand in front of Decker.
"Citation for conspicuous bravery and leadership in action over planet Dimidium." Komack's voice rang off the acoustic reflective wall panels behind the lineup. "Commodore Brienzio, if you please."
"On Stardate One-one-five-seven point four, while in command of U.S.S. Merrimack," Brienzio read, "Captain Matthew Decker received a priority emergency signal from U.S.S. Leonis...."
Decker all but tuned out Brienzio's recount. He already knew and remembered everything that had happened - he'd outlined it in his log, described it in excruciating detail for that damned useless board of inquiry. What a waste of time - and now dissolved to boot.
But he'd left out one small detail: it still felt to him like he'd ordered a premature reduction in speed before entering orbit, but for which the Leonis might have escaped in one piece. Brienzio, however, pointedly skipped that detail as well, instead touting Decker and Kirk's tandem effort to blow the Manticore out of the sky. Decker stared out over the sea of faces eyeing him and the officers lined up beside him: human, Vulcan, Caitian, Andorian or Veloran, they all hung on Brienzio's every word, many of them in awe and some of them even showing a little jealousy. No doubt wished themselves to have been in the right place at the right time. But everyone had a place to be and a time to be there.
"....Captain Decker's actions in the Dimidium crisis, destroying the Manticore and saving the lives of the remaining Leonis crew reflect spectacular credit on himself; his first officer, Commander James Kirk; all the officers and crew of the Merrimack; and are in keeping the finest traditions of the Federation Star Service," Brienzio finished.
"Attention to orders!" Komack's voice rang out again. "Captain Matthew Roderick Decker, as Chief of Starfleet Operations, it is my distinct pleasure and honor to promote you to the rank of Commodore, with all the rights and privileges thereto. As a consequence of your promotion, you are hereby detached from command of U.S.S. Merrimack. At the close of these proceedings, you will report to the Chief of Starfleet Personnel for your next assignment. Congratulations, Commodore Decker." He held out his hand for the shaking, as every other hand within view began to slap together in thundering ovation.
"Thank you, Admiral," Decker said, allowing himself a grateful smile.
"No need to thank me, Matt." Komack smiled back and lowered his voice to a more personal volume. "If anybody, it's the Pavoni you should thank for covering your ass."
As the applause faded away and was again lost under the rushing of the fountain, Komack moved over to stand in front of Kirk. "Citation for conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity, above and beyond the call of duty as first officer of U.S.S. Merrimack, while in action over planet Dimidium," he resumed. "Commodore Brienzio."
"On Stardate One-one-five-seven point four," Brienzio read, "while serving as first officer of U.S.S. Merrimack, Commander James T. Kirk became aware of the crisis surrounding U.S.S. Leonis - namely, that that ship's captain, first officer, and landing party had been killed by Dimidian extremists. Upon learning that the extremists were preparing to launch a Manticore interplanetary missile at Delta Pavonis, Commander Kirk volunteered to beam aboard the Leonis and assume temporary command. Having taken the conn aboard the the Leonis, Commander Kirk received orders from then-Captain Decker aboard the Merrimack and outflanked the missile with a barrage of photon torpedoes. However, when the Leonis was crippled by ion rockets, Commander Kirk recommended that the Merrimack pull the missile onto an altered course, gave orders to shift the ship to a low orbit and for all hands to evacuate in preparation to use the Leonis to intercept the missile. Commander Kirk was among the last of the Leonis survivors to abandon ship before the Leonis intercepted and destroyed the Manticore, with only seconds to spare before impact. Once on the surface of Dimidium, Commander Kirk assumed a defensive posture to protect the Leonis survivors from Dimidian extremist ground forces until Captain Decker was able to beam down reinforcements from the Merrimack. When faced by hostile forces, Commander Kirk successfully bluffed his attackers into believing that superior Starfleet forces were present."
Here Brienzio paused and glanced toward Kirk, a glint of admiration in his eye. "Commander Kirk's valiant actions spared two hundred Starfleet personnel and two extraterrestrial races from mass destruction and heavy loss of life. He has earned extraordinary credit for himself; his commanding officer, Captain, now Commodore Matthew Decker, and his shipmates; and the admiration and gratitude of the Pavoni race. His actions set a new standard for the most excellent traditions of the Federation Star Service."
This time, Decker fought to hide a smile. He knew what was coming, but if Kirk had any idea, he wasn't letting on.
"Attention to orders!" Komack repeated. He waited for the thud of boot heels to dissipate and stared Kirk steadily in the eye. "Commander James Tiberius Kirk, as Chief of Starfleet Operations, I am most pleased and highly honored to promote you to the rank of Captain, with all rights and privileges thereto. As a consequence of your promotion, you are hereby detached from your duties aboard U.S.S. Merrimack. At the close of these proceedings, you will report to the Chief of Starfleet Personnel for further assignment. Congratulations, Captain Kirk."
The auditorium erupted in cheering and applause. For a moment, Kirk seemed at an uncharacteristic loss for words, but presently he took Komack's firm handshake with a deep sigh and a smile. "Thank you, Admiral. Thank you very much."
"You keep on making us proud, Jim," Komack smiled back.
By the time the adulation faded away, Komack was standing in front of Mitchell. As Brienzio began to read the citation, Kirk flicked his gaze sideways toward Decker. "Did you reconsider for very long?" he muttered.
"As long as it took me to knock down one glass of Bolian White," Decker muttered back. "Damned shame we're standing at attention. I would've loved to see the look on your face."
It took another half hour for all citations to be read and all promotions to be announced. Brent, now a lieutenant commander, would also be detached from the Merrimack to provide field training for ship-to-ship combat in the outer solar system. Dr. Suslowicz was the only one not to be promoted in rank, but instead notified that he, too, would be detached from the Merrimack and transferred to the space psychology staff at Starfleet Medical.
Once Komack had congratulated Suslowicz on his advancement, he turned back to the podium and nodded for Brienzio to stand aside. With a solemn face, he took the legipad between his hands.
"In closing," he intoned, "there will be a posthumous citation for valor awarded to Lieutenant Kenneth Odell, navigation officer of U.S.S. Leonis, for halting the Dimidian attack at the cost of his own life. Lieutenant Odell transported the last of the Leonis survivors to the surface of Dimidium and returned to the ship's bridge, where he retook what attitude control he had left to maneuver it into the Manticore's trajectory. Lieutenant Odell successfully intercepted the Manticore some three hundred miles above the planet, averting catastrophic destruction on the ground and assuring that neither the Dimidians nor the Pavoni would come to harm. Lieutenant Odell's brave act of self-sacrifice has allowed us all to stand here today, to congratulate his fellow officers on their promotions and to welcome the Pavoni as valued members of the United Federation of Planets."
Here, Komack bowed his head. Every other head in the auditorium followed suit: an unannounced but unanimous moment of silence for Odell's final act. Kirk clenched his jaw, trying to hold his emotions down: it was to him that Odell had bared his soul and lamented his cowardice less than a minute before letting himself die to avoid judgment - and saved billions of lives in the process. Not now in ten millennia would Odell be remembered as a coward. Komack's proclamation would forever elevate him to a selfless hero in the volumes of Starfleet scholars.
"Thank you all," Komack said finally. "Congratulations to you newly promoted officers, and Godspeed in your journeys to come. These proceedings are now closed." He stepped back from the podium, tucked the legipad under his arm, and in an exact reversal of his entrance, led his entourage back toward the right stage exit. They filed past the Merrimack officers, offering each of them congratulations and handshakes in turn, with Brienzio now bringing up the rear. As he reached Decker and Kirk, a sardonic grin seamed his face.
"You guys wanna hear how Rapoza lost his shit when they dissolved his board?" he offered. "Come on down to the Old City Lounge after you see the CSP. I'm buying the first round!"
True to his word, Brienzio bought the first drink for every Merrimack crewmember who joined in the celebration - and almost every off-duty crewmember eventually passed through the lounge. Decker and Kirk stood at the bar, accepting the enthusiastic congratulations and well-wishes from their erstwhile shipmates, plus a score of other Starfleet personnages who either wanted to extend their wishes or just nab a free drink. Kirk lost track of Brienzio after a while; as it turned out, he'd had to duck into one of the private communication booths to take a transmission from some poohbah in the exploratory precinct of operations.
"Hey, Jim, congratulations!"
Kirk turned away from the bar to greet a broadly smiling, long-striding man in a medical-sciences uniform crossing the crowded lounge toward him. The pale blue eyes twinkled with merriment as they shook hands vigorously and the newcomer gripped Kirk's forearm with his free hand.
"Thanks, Bones," Kirk grinned. "I don't suppose you've got time in for a transfer yet, do you?"
"Well, not yet, but gimme one more outbreak of Rigellian kassaba fever and I'll rate a deep-space assignment."
Kirk turned to Decker, lounging against the bar next to him. "Matt, you know Dr. McCoy, don't you?"
"I believe I do," Decker said as he shook hands with McCoy.
"Congratulations to you as well, sir," McCoy said. "I understand you gents had a helluva time at Dimidium."
"It could have turned out a lot worse than it did," Decker remarked. "Losing the Leonis and Rhys Sheffield, though....Wing Four will be feeling that one for a while."
"Mmmm," McCoy acknowledged gravely.
"Care to join us for a drink?" Kirk asked, holding up a whiskey bottle.
"Not unless it's a good old-fashioned mint julep," McCoy said with a grin. "I've got to skedaddle. Thirty physicals to run for an incoming class of fresh cadets, and only this afternoon to do it in."
"Surely you're not suggesting there's a better man for the job," Kirk ribbed him.
"I'm a doctor, not a computer programmer," McCoy replied gruffly. "But I'll try and catch up with you before you put to space."
"You know where to find me," Kirk smiled.
"Take it easy, Jim." Nodding to Decker, McCoy added, "Commodore," and turned to exit the lounge.
"Doctor," Decker said with a responding nod. After McCoy had gone, he regarded Kirk curiously. "Where is he going to find you, anyway?"
"I drew a light escort cruiser, the Tecumseh," Kirk answered. "From the sound of it, I've got plenty of convoy duty to look forward to in the Aldebaran sector."
"Ah, convoy duty," Decker said with mock wistfulness, leaning backward on the bar. "The janitorial services of deep-space operations. Still, it beats hell out of running a division desk." He looked up and noted Brienzio's annoyed look as he returned from booth to bar with a portable communicator in his hand.
"Yeah," the senior commodore was saying. "Okay. I'll pass it to my personnel officer and see what I can do about arranging a replacement. Brienzio out." He shut the communicator off with a loud sigh, leaned on the bar, and glanced at Kirk and Decker's nearly empty glasses. Looking even more annoyed than a moment ago, he held up his communicator and hollered at the bartender: "You see this? This comes with a phaser! Now can we get another round?"
"Good one, Ray," Decker chuckled.
"Another destroyer skipper relieved for cause?" Kirk surmised.
"Nah, not that bad, I guess," Brienzio said. "Chris Pike is bringing the Enterprise home from a fiver. They're bumping him up to fleet captain, and that damn tired old ship of his is headed in for a general overhaul. Probably take the better part of a year. Half her crew's getting rotated to other duty, and since they're giving you command of Division Two - " he nodded at Decker - "who the hell else have I got to take the Enterprise when she's ready?"
"Why not give her to Jim here?" Decker suggested. "Hell, if I'd known you were gonna need him, I would have recommended him right off."
Kirk laughed. "Captain of the Enterprise, at my age? I haven't even been a captain for half a day, Matt. I should be so lucky as to get command of a ship that size."
"Hey, don't you sell yourself short," Brienzio told him. "One or two good deployments on the Tecumseh ought to cinch it for you - and who knows, the Enterprise might be ready for you by the time you put back in."
"Any ideas in the meantime?" Decker asked.
There was a pause. Brienzio took a refilled glass from the nervous-looking bartender, stared into it for a moment, then looked up at Decker. "Well, after the way you handled the Dimidium mess, there's a good chance I can shake things up a little," he said thoughtfully. "You're a damn sight more useful in a command chair than a desk chair, Matt. As low on qualified captains as we are, I can probably finagle you taking over the Enterprise when you come back from your leave. My personnel officer's got a way with fudging duty assignments so good officers get jobs they're qualified for and flag bozos like Rapoza don't get in over their heads."
"I have to hand it to you, Ray," Decker commented. "All that time behind a division desk has given you a hell of a lot better handle on Starfleet politics than most of us will ever have."
"Yeah," Brienzio grumbled. Clearly, he saw Decker's point, but considered his duty a thankless one all the same. "Well, a man's got to believe in something, I believe I'll have another beer." He smiled sarcastically, hefted his newly filled glass, and moved off to mingle with some of the other Merrimack officers.
Kirk didn't quite get a chance to ask him just how his personnel officer could arrange to change Decker's assignment. Instead he turned to Decker and remarked: "Well, well, Commodore Decker of the starship Enterprise. I have to say I'm a little jealous, Matt. I can't think of a more prestigious posting."
"Oh, I can hardly wait to see how much work she needs when she puts in for refit," Decker said facetiously. "She always seems to get a hard case like Bob April or Chris Pike in that big chair. But I reckon she'll be a damn sight more comfortable than the old Merrimack." He took a sip of his whiskey just before a youthful, smoked voice spoke up from right beside them.
"Excuse me, Commodore. Just wanted to offer my congratulations."
Decker looked at the young man who had appeared at his shoulder and his face suddenly brightened in pleased recognition. "And I'll take 'em in spades!" he said, grinning broadly as he pumped the young man's hand with enthusiasm. "Well, well, how has the great black beyond been treating you?"
"Fine, sir. Just fine."
Decker clapped him on the arm and turned to Kirk. "Jim, I'd like you to meet my son, Will. He's been out of the Academy a little over a year now, junior computer-science officer on the Perry."
"How do you do, Captain," Will Decker said, proffering his hand.
"A pleasure, Mr. Decker," Kirk smiled. "Looking forward to serving alongside the old man one of these days?"
"If that's what Starfleet Command has in mind for me," Will grinned. "And then only if they relax the rules regarding family members serving together on the same ship."
"I suppose your mother wouldn't much care for it either, both her men facing the same dangers together," Kirk said jocularly.
Jocularity or no, he sensed the wrong turn he'd taken when he saw both father and son suddenly turn grave. Will shifted his feet and glanced uncomfortably at his father, who had gone abruptly stiff.
"Well, she may not have the time," Decker clarified finally. "She's very sick, I mean very. It's the damnedest thing. Just when they've finally eradicated illnesses like leukemia, extraterrestrial diseases come along with the same effects to replace it."
"I, ah....I'm sorry, Matt." Kirk lowered his eyes sincerely. "I had no idea."
"It's all right, Jim, don't worry about it. Excuse us for a second, would you please?" Kirk nodded and Decker took his son's arm gently, walking down to a vacant end of the bar where they turned face to face.
"Okay, Will, let's have it. How is your mother?"
Will's face darkened with anguish as he looked up. "She's not doing good at all, Dad. In fact, the last I heard from Brandi, she maybe had only a few weeks left. Veloran blood plague is....well, the cure's yet to be found even on its home planet. If it infects a human, the survival rate....it's pretty much nil."
"Damn." Decker looked away and stared hard at the floor. "Brandi's still at home with her, then?"
"Yeah. I've been trying to get home as much as possible to give her a hand."
"All right, Will, listen. In case you missed it, this promotion came with a month of shore leave before I take my transfer. I'll get you some family medical leave as well, privilege of rank. She's never stopped worrying about either of us, so let's you and I get back out to the homestead. We'll....we'll try and give her some peace of mind."
"Peace. That's the one thing we never have enough of."
Decker patted him on the shoulder. They moved back along the bar toward Kirk, who now stood chatting easily with Mitchell, most likely conspiring to head to some lavishly furnished nightclub for an after-party. If those two wound up serving on the same ship, the shenanigans on some far-off planet inhabited by promiscuous alien women would become the stuff of legend in a hurry. Thinking about it, Decker wouldn't put it past them to abandon ship somewhere in the Orion system and open up for private business. Kirk's charms had even won the day on contact missions to planets with matriarchal societies, and Decker had heard it speculated in the senior officers' wardroom on the Merrimack that an Orion woman was one test Kirk had yet to face. Put him and Mitchell together on such a test, and....
"Well, it's time we weighed anchor," Decker announced rather than finish the thought. "Got some family business to attend to. As for you two, stay the hell out of trouble now, willya?"
"Oh, surely not us, Commodore," Mitchell said with an innocent smile, folding his arms. "Not so long as our illustrious Captain Kirk here remembers not to let his unlimited power go to his head. One never knows what can happen if someone comes to even greater power and has no scruples about using it."
"Good advice, Jim," Decker said matter-of-factly. "Don't let Gary here too far out of your subspace range."
"Oh, I have no intention of that," Kirk said. "One privilege of rank I intend to exercise is asking that Gary be assigned to the Tecumseh before I read my command orders."
"Oh, God," Decker murmured. "God help us all."