To the sound of loud applause, Christopher made his way to the podium at the center of the stage, leaning heavily on his cane. Though he carried himself proud and tall, inside, he was panicking. Speeches were never his strong point, but it seems he was making them constantly since becoming an admiral. As he gripped the podium, he scanned the crowd, to the thousands of faces looking back at him, quietly waiting.
"Thank you, Admiral Barnett," Christopher cleared his throat, looking over at his colleague for a moment. "I would first like to extend my personal gratitude to the Ambassadors of New Vulcan, not only for hosting this event, but for inviting me to speak. It is a great honor, and I sincerely thank you."
Another soft round of applause filled the room and he watched the Ambassadors bow their heads in their own thanks. Sighing once, Christopher looked down at the podium.
"As I'm sure is the sentiment of all of you, I find it very difficult to believe it has been a full year since the Narada Incident. For centuries, it has been said that time eases all difficulties. However, as the days, weeks, and months passed me by, I found myself and those close to me more troubled than ever. Questions rose for us far faster than we could answer them."
Christopher glanced back up, looking out over the crowd once more. His jaw was set square, his eyes sharp and confident as he spoke.
"Above all others, the question I heard the most was 'why'."
He looked to where the crew members of the Enterprise sat, taking each one of them in. Spock sat stiff in his seat, wringing his hands in his lap. Beside him, Jim's fingers wiggled on his armrest, fingertips faintly brushing over his First Officer's arm. A couple seats down, Gaila held tightly to Scotty's hand, her eyes misty in the dim light. At the end of the line, Chekov tapped his feet nervously, casting guilty glances in the direction of Sarek. Christopher's heart ached for his former crew, wanting nothing more than to take their pain as his own. They may be under Jim's lead now, but in a way, they would always be ihis/i.
"Some wonder why it was their home that was destroyed. Others wonder why they survived when others didn't." He began to count off on his fingers, his voice losing its control, hints of anger lacing his words.
" 'Why didn't we get there fast enough?' , 'Why did I call in sick that day?' , 'Why did he do it?'. Why, why, why!"
He took a deep breath and shook his head, blinking his blue-grey eyes. "The truth is we will never know why this happened to us. We will theorize and we will guess, but the truth will always be a mystery."
Christopher's face softened once more, his eyes scanning over his audience. "The only thing we will ever be certain of is that this happened to all of us. This was not a strictly Vulcan occurrence and it was not strictly Terran, either. We are all survivors of the same war, and for that, we are stronger. We take solace in the fact that our darkest hour was shared, that our pain runs through another's veins. Terrans and Vulcans will forever be united because of this, in ways that only survivors can. And for that, I am grateful."
A few members of the audience nodded, faint applause reaching his ears. He readjusted his grip on the podium, shaking his head.
"Nero's goal was to destroy us. But he failed. Vulcan and Terran relations are stronger than ever before. His deeds have illuminated all that can we can achieve together. United, Terrans and Vulcans are unstoppable!"
The applause grew louder, assorted shouts of joy resounding through the large auditorium. Christopher smiled to himself, feeling a quick sense of pride at the camaraderie he had inspired. Raising a hand, he gently silenced the crowd once more.
"Despite our strength, the grief and questions remain. The only answer we will ever have is simply that it happened. And the only solution is to accept it and carry on. Together. Thank you for your time."
As Christopher made his way off the stage, he watched as Terrans and Vulcans alike rose to their feet, the uproarious applause leaving him momentarily deaf. He paused at the edge of the steps, watching as the crowd spoke to one another, shaking hands, hugging, offering little bits of comfort in whatever way they knew how.
They were all broken and scared, tired and lost, unable to see what the future had in store for all of them. But they had each other. And that was enough.